The Sweet Far Thing
by cariaudry
Summary: Sharma promised to make Maerad the Queen of all creation if she would join him, and when she does, the Song breaks her mind and the Dark consumes her. But before she can make the world to her desire, she and Sharma must conquer the remaining resistance of the Light. As the Dark grows ever more powerful, Maerad's only salivation may rest in her heart and the hearts of her friends.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! This is my first time writing a Pellinor fanfiction, and I really hope I do it well. I am going to do my absolute best to post a new chapter once a week, but I want to make sure that the writing, plot, and characters are developed, so it might not be quite as periodic as my other works. Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

_Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!_

_You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled_

_Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring_

_The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing._

_Beauty grown sad with its eternity_

_Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea._

_Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,_

_For God has bid them share an equal fate;_

_And when at last defeated in His wars,_

_They have gone down under the same white stars,_

_We shall no longer hear the little cry_

_Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die._

_-W.B. Yeats_

* * *

Chapter One

"Would you like some more tea? Or perhaps something stronger…ale, wine? You were always so fond of wine. Here, drink this, it's wonderful; fresh grapes from South of Turbansk went into that, I guarantee it."

Cadvan stared at the tall goblet before him, filled to the brim with a dark, burgundy liquid, and carefully, lifted it. It smelled of nothing so much as fresh, warm wine, and looked of nothing so much as wine, and, undoubtedly, it tasted of nothing so much as wine; however, Cadvan couldn't bring himself to taste the drink before him. To him, the wine was poison, and he would rather go thirsty than drink an offering from the Dark. As gently, as he could, he replaced the goblet on the table before him and stared down at his hands in his lap.

"I'm not thirsty, but thank you, all the same," he answered as politely as he could.

Across from him, a face fell. "Do you not like red wine? Would you prefer something cold? I completely forgot how hot it is outside, and the dry air must trouble your throat horribly. I'll call for juice-"

"It is not a trouble of the wine, I promise you," said Cadvan simply, still looking into the palms of his hands. They were calloused and dirty, far more than they had been in the months leading up to his predicament, and the backs were laced with a pattern of ugly red welts. They needed cleaning and healing, perhaps some cold water. "I've always enjoyed my wine."

"Then what is wrong? You promised me, didn't you, after I saved your life for the fourth time in Innail, that you would buy me a wine. So, I've spared you're the trouble and brought you some to share."

Cadvan sighed. "Maerad, it's not the wine that I have a problem with."

Finally, Cadvan forced himself to look up from his hands at the young woman across from him. She was beautiful, beautiful like a perfect summer evening; hair as dark and luscious as the night sky spread over the sea, skin as pale as the moon, alight with a healthy glow, and eyes like stars. When she smiled, her face was more breathtaking than Cadvan remembered, and he felt a raw ache in his heart, like a stab of a sharp knife. This lovely woman who sat across from Cadvan, while stunning in all respects, was not Maerad. She looked like Maerad, wore Maerad's clothing, even spoke in Maerad's voice, but it was not the girl Cadvan loved. Across from him was a stranger, an imposter, a woman who drew him forward only to give him no ground to walk on, and he found himself falling forward into the abyss.

Maerad looked suddenly alert, and perhaps, a bit nervous. "Then what is it? Are you uncomfortable here, is it the soldiers standing guard?" Maerad shot a look at one of the men and shooed him away; the two left with glances at Cadvan. "Or, perhaps you'd care for some more food; you look as thin as I did when we first met. Silvia called me a stick and asked if you'd been eating all the rations." Maerad laughed fondly at the memory.

"You remember that, do you?" Cadvan asked a little darkly. "You remember Silvia and Malgorn and Innail?"

"How could I forget?" asked Maerad with a wistful smile. "Innail was my first true home, the first place I knew kindness or love. I have many fond memories of Innail; it's why I chose my new home to be modeled after it. Don't you like it?"

Cadvan glanced about Maerad's many spacious rooms. They were wide and open, with vaulted ceilings, their rafters carved with intricate designs of flowers. The walls themselves were painted buttermilk yellow, small lavender flowers stenciled as a boarder around the floor, was home to many bookshelves and instruments, and even a few paintings and framed scripts. The room they were seated in was a large, pleasant gathering room that opened to a private garden. Cadvan and Maerad were seated in comfy chairs on an oriental rug before a roaring hearth, and on the table before them was a small feast. Cadvan could just see through one door the glimpse of a bedroom, and the other, a library. His eyes were drawn, irresistibly, though, to the large set of screen doors that gave way to the huge garden. Through it, Cadvan saw a cobbled walk that twisted away through beds of blooms and trees, and he heard the babble of a fountain, and the stray cord of an instrument being plucked.

"You have done Innail justice, Maerad, but do you not wish to visit the city again?" asked Cadvan carefully. "Or if not Innail, your friends there? Silvia and Malgorn miss you, and Saliman spoke of you just the other day."

Maerad raised an eyebrow. "Did he? He wasn't quite so fond of me when last we crossed paths, or rather, when our paths diverged. What has he to say this time?"

"That he misses the company of Maerad the Unpredictable," answered Cadvan swiftly, thinking of his friend's safety.

"I find that slightly hard to swallow," she sniffed, and plucked a strawberry from the plate before her. "Cadvan, come, eat something. You come before me like a starved mutt and refuse my food."

"I'm not hungry," he said simply and stared long and hard at the fresh fruits before him. It turned his stomach ever so slightly that Maerad had provisions such as these when the rest were forced to live off scraps not fit for animals. "I've eaten my meal today as it is."

Maerad laughed. "Yes, but it can't have been a good meal, could it?"

Cadvan's face darkened perceptibly. "It's what I've been given Maerad, and it's what I shall eat. A man of my station eats the food of his station, wears the clothing of his station, and lives the life of his station."

The sharpness of his rebuke stung Maerad, and she returned his frown. Once, there was a time when she would have held her tongue and nodded in agreement, but that was long gone. Maerad was no mere girl to Cadvan anymore; she was a true Bard, master of her own powers, second to no one. "You seem to have forgotten the respect a man of your station owes."

Cadvan sensed the change in Maerad at once, and knew he was going to have to tread very carefully until she returned to herself. "I certainly did not mean to offend you, Maerad. I simply meant that I have taken my fill for the day, and could not in good conscious take more. Perhaps another time?"

Maerad pursed her lips. "Next time, I will have you brought in early morning so as not to waste the food in the first place. I find myself often bored these days and your company might be pleasing."

"I have always enjoyed yours, Maerad. I'm happy you asked to see me." Cadvan knew he was pandering to a monster, but he had little choice in the matter; there was too much at risk. "I think, though, that maybe the others would like to see you, too. Silvia misses you sorely."

The thought of Silvia unsettled Maerad and she sat up straighter, stirred to life. "I have missed her, too, but things have been busy; I've been called away often to deal with a few schools, and the Lord of Light needs me often. We are in close council."

Cadvan tried to hide his shock. _The Lord of Light? Maerad can't actually be referring to Sharma? _he thought as something like a cold hand gripped his heart and tugged. _Are you so consumed by his spell that you think him a savior and not the monster he is?_

"I have been named First Bard," Maerad said, smiling triumphantly at Cadvan, preening a little. "You were prepared to be First Bard, once, weren't you?"

Something in Cadvan flinched. _Does she do this to torture me? Has she been consumed by the Dark so completely? _"That was long ago when I was young. But tell me, of what city are you First Bard?"

"No city," Maerad shrugged, sensing his despair like a hound on scent. "I am First Bard of all. Even Enkir must answer to me now. Oh, Cadvan!" she cried, tossing back her long hair and laughing. "You should have seen his face when he was brought before me. It looked as though he'd swallowed a fly when he saw me seated on the right hand of the Lord of Light. He serves me, but I don't forget," she warned, suddenly serious. "I don't forget his treachery."

Cadvan was wary of her sick pleasure at Enkir's demotion. "Forget what?"

Maerad glanced over her shoulder to the two men standing guard at her door and frown darkly. "Come, let us go out to the gardens and walk, I promise, you'll love it, Cadvan!" She jumped to her feet holding out her arm expectantly, waiting for Cadvan to take it and lead her away.

With a tired smile, Cadvan rose and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm like a gentlemen. "Shall we take the air?"

Maerad drew close to Cadvan, far closer than he was used to with her, and led him through the screen doors and into the garden. She had not lied when she'd said that the garden was beautiful, the closest replication of Innail she could make. They were standing in a circular, paved opening, a small wooden table set with place settings. However, this was all Cadvan could see, for the garden life claimed the rest of his view. Beautiful, blooming rose bushes ringed their small outcropping, dotted here and there by huge, willowy trees, flowers creeping up their trunks. A small path left the patio, trees forming a natural roof over it, draping their leaves like a horse's mane. The path wound out of sight, but Cadvan had no doubt there was more stunning plant life. In the very distance, Cadvan spied a large, brick wall, it too, covered in creeping flowers and vines.

"This is lovely, Maerad," Cadvan breathed. "You keep a garden worthy of the finest Schools."

Maerad sniffed delicately. "This is my most favorite place to be, Cadvan, no one comes here but me and Hem. I hope you like it here."

Something in her tone worried Cadvan. "Truly, I would stay here for the rest of my days if I could."

Maerad's smile was odd, like she were thinking some wicked thought that made her eyes gleam. "Well, it may be in my power to do just that, but that is talk for another time, after much consideration. After all, you sometimes weary me, Cadvan." Maerad was blind to the confused look on Cadvan's face and she tugged him onto the path. "Some day, I will make the world this way; just a beautiful, blooming garden."

"Would that you could," agreed Cadvan, sounding wistful.

"Anything I will can be made real," Maerad warned, and she pulled Cadvan to a stop so he was made to look into her eyes. He saw nothing but hard ice there, and it frightened him. "I have touched the truest powers of the Knowing; I have unleashed a power you could not begin to understand, my dear Cadvan. I make this world to my desire; there is no one to challenge me."

Cadvan bowed his head, hoping just to escape her cold, pitiless gaze. "I am the first to believe that, trust me, Maerad, for I have seen your powers unleashed. I have seen you vanquish wrights, sing lullabies to stormdogs, make a rabbit of a hull-and that was in your weaker moments!"

"Yes, yes it was," Maerad agreed contemplatively, but there was still steel in her voice. She gave Cadvan a sharp pull and he had no choice but to follow her. She led him a little ways on to a small alcove where a fountain in the shape of a rearing horse held court, flanked by small benches. She directed Cadvan to the rim of the fountain and slid a sly sideways smile up at him. "Watch me, Cadvan."

Wonder and horror woke in Cadvan has he watched Maerad. She reached into the pool and scooped a handful of water out, and then, slowly, began to breathe on it. As she blew the water, it began to reform, bending and twisting, and he saw a shape forming: a twig-like leg here, a wing there, even a small beak. In her hands was a small bird made of water. Cadvan was about to compliment her creation, but Maerad shot him a dark look and then began to sing. As always, Cadvan found Maerad's voice stunning and heart-warming; like the sweetest song of a bird. As she sang, though, Cadvan felt a strange, burning sensation, and he saw the plants around them sink slightly, as if being drained of life. The burning sensation was almost uncomfortable when Maerad suddenly stopped and he turned back to her-and then gasped.

There, in Maerad's hands, was a small, very _alive, _bird.

"How…" whispered Cadvan weakly, watching the bird hop across her hands. It was like no bird Cadvan had ever seen, so blue it was almost white with eyes as black as night. "Maerad, you gave it life."

Maerad snorted, directing the bird onto her finger. "No, I simply _understand_ life. All the things that are required to give life, they were there, all that was needed was that first spark. I gave it that."

"That's amazing," Cadvan breathed.

"You like it, then?" Maerad asked, and she turned big eyes on him suddenly, as if part of her was worried Cadvan might not like her creation. "You think it's good?"

"It's more than good," Cadvan murmured, and held out his hand for the bird to hop on. It did and he chuckled in amazement. "It's brilliant, Maerad, impossible…"

"It's good then," Maerad said simply, watching the bird blandly. "You can name it, if you like."

Cadvan saw Maerad's attention waning with the bird, and said swiftly, "So, tell me, Maerad, what do you do with your free time here? I see you have been busy with the creation of this lovely place, but surely this has not taken six months?" He wriggled his fingers and the bird fluttered off to a nearby tree.

Maerad drew Cadvan back to her side and directed him down the path. "I read, I write, I sing and play; but often times I am bored. I admit, I am kept a bit busy with the constant letters I receive from the cities since I am First Bard," said Maerad, again, smirking at Cadvan, "but I long for the company of my friends."

"We feel the same," Cadvan said, shooting her a quick smile. "Silvia misses you, and Malgorn wishes to hear the stories of our journeys, and I too, would like to see you more often."

"You are seeing me, Cadvan," Maerad said wryly. "I would love to have them come visit, but I do not think they will be very pleased with me, and honestly, I am not interested in their self-affirming judgment."

"Silvia loves you like a daughter, Maerad!" Cadvan cried at once. "Do not think they have come to dislike you."

"I think that is exactly what has happened," she answered darkly. "I think that they believe me a creature of the Dark, and I won't forgive them. Remember, I don't forget!"

Cadvan flinched at her angry outburst; he had hoped that Silvia's presence might bring some light back to Maerad's world. "You did say as much."

"Enkir killed my mother," Maerad said bitterly. "He took from her her very self, and sold us to be slaves. Forget that he had my father killed, and razed my home! I will make that man pay for the crimes he's committed."

Cadvan blinked. "He must have some power-"

"Ha!" Maerad tossed her hair back. "Enkir is nothing but a sniveling slug, trailing my shadow and leaving behind his slime. And soon, very soon, I will crush him under my boot like he did my mother…"

_The Dark has manipulated her love for her mother, _Cadvan observed. "Do you think it healthy to have such dark thoughts, Maerad?"

"They make me happy," she said with a smile. "I think of the revenge I will take, and I am happy. It is so for that horrible Gilman, too. I have already sent men to the cot to bring him here. Soon, he too, will know my wrath."

Cadvan could feel the coldness Maerad was emitting like a physical thing. He shivered a bit, and when he looked down at his arm, saw that there were goose bumps forming. Maerad must have seen this too, for her face softened and she drew him closer, cupping his cheek with her hand. "Are you cold, Cadvan, are you tired? Come, we will sit and rest a while, and then we will play together as once we did."

"You are a gracious host, but I think I will be missed by my fellow housemates if-"

"You will stay and all will be made well." It was an order if ever Cadvan had heard one, and he knew it wasn't worth it to try and fight her.

"So long as you want my company," he sighed.

Again, Maerad's mouth curved up in a secretive smile. "I have always desired your company Cadvan, since the day you first found me in the cot milking that cow. All those dark days we traveled, and all those evil nights, and all those desperate times, you have been my companion, and I found solace in it." Maerad led Cadvan to small alcove, made naturally by a large willow that trailed its branches against the ground. As she stepped up to it, the leaves parted like a curtain for her, and she smiled over her shoulder. Beneath the leaves, against the trunk was a lovely wooden daybed, with a soft mattress and light blankets; there was also two seats and a table. As Cadvan drew nearer, he saw that the furniture was made of the willow's roots, and that great magic and song had gone into this creation. Maerad reclined on the daybed and gestured Cadvan to the nearest chair. "For so long now I have been alone here, and I found myself wanting something, but I couldn't quite put a name on it. I thought I had everything: a home, my music, a garden, and my brother, but still, I felt restless. I would find myself night after night out in the garden, lying beneath this tree, staring up through the leaves at the stars, and then it came to me: I wanted you, Cadvan."

"I'm flattered-"

"Don't be," said Maerad swiftly. "I don't know why I wanted to see you, because you were not always kind to me, sometimes, you were downright mean, but the thought of you brought me peace. So, I went before the Lord of Light and he granted my desire; he is so keen to keep me happy."

_He's just using you, Maerad! _Cadvan wanted to cry. "I am grateful for it."

"He wants me to be happy, is all," Maerad sniffed, but then she fixed Cadvan with another penetrating stare. "So tell me, do they speak of me often, down there in the dust and ash?"

Cadvan ran a hand through his hair. "We miss you, Maerad."

"Well, you don't have to anymore," Maerad said indifferently. "You can come visit often, and it will be just like it was before. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Very much," hedged Cadvan. "But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that all your friends would like to visit you, too."

Maerad stared up at the leaves, her eyes darting back and forth as the leaves moved in the breeze. "My friends? I think not. They had no desire to see me before. What has changed now?"

Cadvan watched her, watched her lips pout and her blank eyes. "It has been awhile, Maerad…They have since thought better of it."

"Perhaps," Maerad murmured, "perhaps I will see Silvia, but not the others…no, they haven't forgiven me yet, and so I don't forgive them."

"But, Maerad-"

"_No_, Cadvan," she said sharply, turning her cold eyes on him. "Do not pester me so, or I shan't let you return. I _want _you and I to get on well, Cadvan, like we did in the past, but I can't stand such whining. I'm occupied enough without listening to you complain."

Cadvan leaned back in his seat, but kept his gaze on Maerad. "As you'll have it, I meant nothing of it." Maerad pursed her lips and blew out her breath, annoyed, as if she only half believed him. "Now that I am here, though, what would you have of me?"

Languorously, Maerad rolled over so she faced him completely, and the pale blue gown she was wearing draped over her body like a waterfall. She smiled up through her softly curling hair. "It has been so long since I've had the company of someone…someone _normal_. I want to do something normal; play with me, Cadvan. I'll send for instruments."

Cadvan glanced down, unable to look at Maerad any longer; she was too charming, too sweet, too beautiful for him. What he saw instead were his own hands, worn and calloused by the last few months of imprisonment. He doubted whether he would be able to play an entire piece with Maerad. What he wished for suddenly was a long bath, a few proper meals, and a long night's sleep.

"I would like that very much, Maerad, but I'm afraid I'm in no condition to play." When Maerad stared at him, looking actually disappointed, he continued. "My hands…they're not quite in the same shape they were six months ago."

"What has happened?" asked Maerad sharply, sitting up and holding out her own hands for his. When Cadvan gave them to her, she sucked her breath in sharply. "Who did this to you?"

His hands were scarred from work, and one had a long, shining burn mark, the other, a broken finger that needed to be set. She turned his hands over in her own, inspecting them closer and biting her lip. For a moment, Cadvan saw his Maerad before him; the young woman with a gentle heart and a desire for comfort and friends. "Who did this to you, Cadvan?"

"The burn was my own doing," said Cadvan.

"The broken finger?"

Here, Cadvan paused, wondering how he would fare if he revealed the shift warden had snapped it in a fit of rage. He looked away, but Maerad took his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "Tell me, Cadvan."

"One of the wardens," he shrugged.

"Ah," was all she said, and then cupped his hands in hers. Cadvan meant to ask her a question, but he felt a sudden rush of warmth in his hands, and when he looked down again, Maerad had uncovered them. They were healed, the burn turning the pink of new flesh, the calluses smooth, the broken finger popped into place. "There now, all better."

"Thank you, Maerad," Cadvan said, and he examined his hands more closely. "Thank you."

Maerad sat back, pleased. "I don't want you to suffer, Cadvan, but you are worse for wear than I thought. Perhaps, I will play and you can listen, and then I will have you escorted back to your home."

_My home, _thought Cadvan. _My home? Is that what you call that place they keep us?_ Cadvan smiled grimly. "I'd like to hear you play again; do you still have your lyre?"

"Indeed," said Maerad. "The Lord of Light has decided it is my heritage, my right, and now that it has been played, there's no reason I can't have it."

This surprised Cadvan, but he quickly smiled. "That's generous."

Maerad sat up suddenly, and Cadvan turned to see that waiting behind them, just outside the curtain of leaves, was a young woman. She looked uncertainly about, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet, and pushed back a mess of black hair as she peered into the depths of the tree.

"Bring it here," Maerad called, and the girl poked her head through the leaves. She saw Cadvan and blinked before quickly dropping her head. "My Lady, you called for your lyre."

"I did," sighed Maerad, rolling her eyes at Cadvan. "Now place it here and be on your way. See that my things are laid out for my dinner." The girl came forward, glancing curiously at Cadvan before placing the lyre on the table and bowing herself out. As soon as she was out of earshot, Maerad sighed. "Her name is Iris, and she's a useful thing to have around, though a bit skittish."

Cadvan felt a stab of sympathy for Iris; he had had a difficult time adjusting to Maerad's power, and now that she was the Nameless's lieutenant, it must have been especially unnerving. "She's seems a sweet girl."

Maerad's eyes bore into Cadvan. "Do you think so?"

"She's very polite," Cadvan amended, sensing Maerad's disquiet, he added, "You were going to play?"

This brightened Maerad at once, and she picked up the lyre, strumming it experimentally. After a moment, she found herself and picked up a tune, an old song. Cadvan was disappointed that she chose not to sing, since she had such a fine voice, but he was also grateful just to sit and relax and listen, relishing his time in the garden. Maerad played for almost twenty minutes, never faltering, just switching from song to song, humming now and then, but mostly focusing on the notes. The sun had begun to set when she stopped.

Releasing a pent up breath, Maerad tossed her head back and laughed. "Ah, it feels so _good _to play again. It seems like it's been ages since I played."

"You are truly a master Bard, Maerad," Cadvan applauded. "Were that my hands were more ready for an instrument and I would have joined you."

"Next time," Maerad said firmly. "Next time you will play with me. I will make sure there will be no more of this working nonsense for you. Your hands will be properly healed by then."

"I do not think I can refuse to work-"

"Don't be silly," said Maerad, rising up and gesturing for him to do the same. "I will tell the wardens that you are to be excused from such things. You have more important things to do than slave away in the armies of the Lord of the Light; I must have some entertainment." She laughed as if this were amusing and not a horrible thing to say.

"I'm grateful," Cadvan said again, and followed Maerad out of the garden back to her room.

Iris was hurrying about, cleaning up the food they had left behind and setting the cushions and blankets on the chairs and couches back to rights. When she saw them, she jumped. "My Lady, I have your evening gown laid out and waiting; would you like me to fix your hair-?"

"In a moment," Maerad said absently. She turned and faced Cadvan, surveying him closely. "I do not think the Lord of Light will appreciate your presence at our dinner, which is more the pity, since you would prove the only good company. I'm afraid, for now at least, that we must say goodbye."

"It has been a pleasure, Maerad," Cadvan said while Iris watched them closely.

"Yes, it has. I will call for you again soon," Maerad said, and then she smiled shyly. "I trust you will be pleased."

"Yes, of course," he said, and then took her hands in his and kissed her cheek, as he had done so long ago at the welcome feast.

Maerad smiled up at him, and for a moment he saw the girl he knew and loved. "Until we meet again, my dear Cadvan."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"How does she fare, Cadvan?" Silvia asked the moment Cadvan stumbled into their hovel. "What has the Dark done to her? Is she hurt? Has she suffered at all?" Cadvan held up a hand to silence Silvia's desperate pleas, and slumped past her to the table in their small kitchen. There was the sound of footsteps that announced Malgorn, Hekibel, and Saliman's arrival. Silvia took Cadvan's chin and raised it to meet her eyes. "Maerad?"

Cadvan looked about helplessly. "She is fine. Unharmed."

"Does he keep her imprisoned?" Silvia pressed.

Now, Cadvan laughed. "She lives in the finest, largest rooms, with a private garden that would do Innail shame. She has servants and guards, and spends her time writing and reading and speaking with her brother."

"And Hem?" Saliman said swiftly.

"I didn't see him, but I suspect he has gone the same way as Maerad." Cadvan thought back to her razor smile and playful eyes, and then he buried his face in his hands. "She is consumed by the Dark. She has been named First Bard of all schools, and uses her position and power to exact her revenge against those who had wronged her. She is in the deepest councils with The Nameless One. Even now," he cried in anguish, "she goes to take dinner with him. She calls him the Lord of Light."

Silvia had covered her mouth with her hands in shock and stared at Cadvan with terrified eyes. "But surely she doesn't use her powers for…?"

"She uses them however she feels," said Cadvan carelessly. "She says she has become master of her powers, and that she has touched the truest powers of the Knowing. I saw her create a bird of water." He looked between his friends. "She filled her hands with water and breathed on it, and then in her hands was a live bird."

"Impossible," said Saliman blankly. "We cannot give life."

"She said she didn't," said Cadvan. "She said life was always there, and she simply sparked it. She has unleashed her Elemental powers and now, I think, has some understanding of her distant kin."

"It's too much," said Malgorn. "The Elemental powers were already driving her mad when she unleashed the Song, and the Dark took advantage of her weakness and corrupted her. I would think she is the most dangerous creature in all the lands now."

Cadvan looked at Malgorn a long time, and saw something dark in his eyes. "She doesn't mean us harm."

"No," said Saliman firmly. "You remember she said she would never harm anyone she loves? She has no love for any of us. Not anymore." Silvia sobbed loudly and Hekibel went to comfort her.

"I don't think she is lost to us," said Cadvan. "A part of her is still there. The real Maerad. She modeled her rooms after those in Innail, and the gardens…they were everything she always spoke of. Somewhere, Maerad is still there, exerting a little influence on the Darkness."

"But how long before the Dark completely consumes her?" Saliman asked.

"Perhaps there is still hope," said Hekibel complacently, patting Silvia. "She asked to see you, didn't she, Cadvan? What did she want you for?"

Cadvan nodded his head absently. "She said she missed my companionship. She wanted to play some songs with me."

"Then there is hope. Maerad always loved you Cadvan, and the Dark couldn't take that from her." Hekibel patted Silvia's cheek.

"It can't take it, but…I think it has corrupted it." Cadvan recalled the way Maerad had looked at Iris when she had interrupted them and he had called her a sweet girl. There had been a dark glint, and something jealous. Or how she had smiled at him, wantonly provocative. And the way she had demanded his arm when walked through the gardens.

"How?" Saliman wondered. "What has she done?"

"She-" Cadvan broke off, trying to find the way to explain. "She wants my company, but at the same time, warns that if I bore her or annoy her, she'll send me away. She says the most awful things, and I think she knows I am sick of hearing them, but I have no power to stop her."

"But she still wants you, yes?" Silvia said, wiping her eyes. "She still asks for you? Will she call for you again?"

"She said she would," Cadvan murmured.

"Then you must go to her!" Silvia cried. "Go to her, try to bring her back to the Light."

"Silvia," Cadvan said, but Malgorn spoke over him.

"Perhaps you can, Cadvan. She obviously wants you. There is chance you could help her."

Cadvan's laughter sounded like a bark. "Wants me? Aye, she does, but for what? Half the time, she torments me by reminding me of my past, by purposefully saying hurtful things. All the other times she wants me to tell her just the things she wants to hear. I'm not there to be her friend, I'm there to be…a distraction."

"Can you tell her no?" Saliman asked. "When she summons you next, ask if you can simply return. That you're over tired-"

"She won't let me go," Cadvan said, shaking his head. "I tried to leave today, but she orders me to stay, and how am I to say no? I'm afraid if I push her too far, she'll turn completely and send us all away. It's as if part of her resents me and the other part finds me amusing."

"All the same, there must be some way to break her hold?" Saliman pushed.

"She has a look in her eye sometimes…" Cadvan tried to recall it. "It's possessive, almost. When I told her I couldn't play because of my hands she said she'd I could just stop working so I'd be better ready to play the next time. And she had food brought, and kept complaining of my health…It's disconcerting. I tell her I can't stay, and she says I can and will."

Silvia worried her lip. "Perhaps you could humor her?"

"I am _not_ going to pander to her," said Cadvan fiercely. "It's not going to change anything. Besides, I don't particularly enjoy being her-her-"

"Pet?" Saliman offered with a dark laugh. "No, you're right, Cadvan, if Maerad really is still there, it won't help us any by just doing as she wishes. But how to help, I do not know."

"Perhaps I could speak with her?" Silvia offered. "Maybe a few words-"

"Silvia, don't you dare risk such a thing," Malgorn growled, but Cadvan was shaking his head.

"She said she might be willing to see you again, Silvia. She said she has forgiven you. I could try to convince her next time I see her."

"She has forgiven Silvia but not us?" Hekibel asked sharply. "We're her friends."

"She says you haven't forgiven her," Cadvan hedged. "I don't know what else to do with her."

"But we've done nothing wrong," Silvia said tearfully. "We've always loved her-"

"She thinks that you don't agree with her choice to join the Nameless," Cadvan sighed.

"Neither did you!" Silvia accused.

"I know," said Cadvan evenly, sensing her despair. "But like I said, she just wants me there. But I could tell her you miss her sorely, and you want to see her again; perhaps she would accept that."

Silvia nodded slowly. "Yes, do that, and see if you can't bring her around. I will work on her too."

They friends sat in silence a moment, their faces in shadow and their thoughts dark. When Malgorn spoke, his voice was heavy. "I never would have thought to lose Maerad. At least, not like this."

That night, they stayed up late, into the early hours of morning, discussing Maerad. It sickened Cadvan, the constant rehashing of his experience. Each time he thought of her, he was reminded forcibly of the girl he had known, the girl he'd loved. It was like someone he loved had died and he was left with nothing but the memories to morn. When they finally decided to retire, Cadvan's face was dark and his thoughts bitter. That night, when he closed his eyes, Maerad's wicked smile haunted his dreams, and her gleaming eyes followed him everywhere.

* * *

_He could hear the music all around him, inside him, filling him up. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, the most wholly, unsullied sound in all of Annar and the Seven Kingdoms. Cadvan felt nothing, no fear, no pain, no weariness, only wonder. And then, just as the music reached such a pitch that he thought his heart might break, something jarred his mind and a pain tore through him he had never known. It felt as though his body were being torn apart, his skin being pulled from the bone, his blood boiling, and then darkness claimed him and he knew now more._

_He woke and found himself lying on the ground, beside him, Saliman and Hekibel were stirring. He made to ask them a question, if they too felt the horrible pain he had, when he realized he couldn't move. His first thought went to Maerad and Hem, and he struggled to reach for her mind._

Maerad,_ he called out, _Maerad, please, answer me_! But there was no answer, only desolation and silence. He reached out further with his mind, and finally, felt something living. _Maerad?_ He wondered, and the thing stirred at the mention of the name._

_He heard footsteps approaching him and saw two small figures drawing nearer. He strained against whatever held him still, but it was some force of immeasurable strength and will, and all his attack against it did nothing. It was like beating a stone wall with his fists. He looked up when a shadow cross his face._

Thank the Light, Maerad, I thought you had been hurt, _he said in relief. Perhaps it was the light, but her face looked oddly distorted, and the shadows danced across it and she could have been smiling. _Something attacked us, Maerad, and none of us can free ourselves.

_Cadvan waited for Maerad to extend her mind to him and help him break free, but she continued to stand over him, and he noticed her eyes were very dark, so dark they were almost black. She didn't blink at all._

_He felt something cold brush against his thoughts. _Maerad, what happened to the Song? Is it done? Is it- _The cold something cut him off, crushing his thoughts entirely and leaving him with a dull buzzing in his ears. _

_It was some time before Cadvan could recover himself, and he struggled with the thing so much, he lost focus of the world around him. When he returned, he saw that Maerad was still standing over him, but this time, he was sure. She was smiling down on him, an amused look, like he was a charming animal._

Maerad? _He asked once more, keeping himself carefully in check._

_There was a long pause, and then she answered, but her voice was cold and even, and he sensed none of the girl he had known. _Be silent, Cadvan. The Song has been unmade. I have opened myself to my truest powers, and I take up my birth right.

_Cadvan felt his heart skip a beat at the dead look on her face, and the coldness in her voice. He thought, desperately, that the Song had worked some change in her, and that it would go soon. That this was just the magic of Elementals, but he felt that cold conscious brush his again and speak._

The Song is unmade, you fool. I have broken it and taken it in me. _She knelt down beside him so their faces were close and she brushed a strand of his hair out of his eyes. _Its power is mine now, and I will do as I wish. You would do well to remember that.

_Cadvan felt his stomach turn at her words. _Maerad, please, listen to me. This isn't right. You must free the Song. _He saw her face, blank of any emotion, and tried to reach her again. _Elednor.

_She recoiled from him like he'd snapped a whip at her. She bared her teeth in an animal's snarl and her eyes filled with a bright light like pain. _Never speak that name. It's mine, you've no right no to it.

Elednor,_ he'd tried again, but this time, anger flashed across her face._

_Her fingers were like a vice when they clamped down on his chin and forced him to look into her very dark gaze. _I've warned you twice now, Cadvan, to never use my name, don't make it a third time. You may call me Maerad; that is all.

_But what would happen if he did name her one more time? She had always welcomed his use of her name, had always responded when he'd called. He had taken it as a show of their trust, as a deeper meaning to their friendship. She was still staring down on him when he said, _Elednor.

_There was heat in Maerad's hand when she struck him. His eyes watered and his jaw stung; when he blinked away the spots in his vision, Maerad's face was close to his, her eyes bright. _You'll regret that.

_And so he had. Maerad left him then, to join Hem and check on Saliman and Hekibel. Afterward, she and Hem situated themselves around a small fire and waited, leaving their friends to lie on the ground, helpless. It wasn't long before the ground thundered under the hooves of horses, and a bleak, emptiness engulfed Cadvan as he sensed the Hulls approaching. When they arrived, Maerad was unperturbed, and she greeted them formally; Cadvan noted in horror that they bowed to her. One of the Hulls drew near to him, its hand on the hilt of a short sword._

"_I don't want them dead," said Maerad waspishly. "We can bring them with us."_

"_My lady, it might be difficult to restrain two bards, especially of such skill-"_

"_How hard could it be? Bind their hands, gag their mouths, and don't let them near a weapon." Maerad flicked her gaze over Cadvan with little interest. "I have managed to keep them here so far by my will alone."_

So this is Maerad's doing, _Cadvan realized. She was the one holding them down, stopping their magic. _

"_It would make our journey simpler if-"_

"_I do not care for simple!" Maerad snapped, and Hem was nodding his head in agreement, his face as blank as Maerad's. "I would take them with us. The Light knows I will need some company if all I have to look forward to is you. Were you not sent here to serve me?"_

"_We were," said a Hull softly._

"_Then _serve_ me," she said in a hard voice. _

_Cadvan was shocked to see the Hulls bow their heads to her and Hem and turn to their new captives. He couldn't move, and so Cadvan could do nothing while they bound his wrists in tight cord, stuffed his mouth full of cloth to stop any spells, and snatched his weapons away. It seemed Saliman and Hekibel were given the same treatment, and soon, the three were thoroughly subdued. Maerad glanced at them, flicked her wrist, and the weight that had held them against the ground lifted. _

"_I don't want any of them hurt," she warned the nearest Hull. "Hem and I…these are our friends, and we would have them with us."_

_Cadvan's face was still smarting where she had struck him, and he wondered at her request. Surely, after what she had done, she didn't care for their lives? She had betrayed them to the Dark and joined the Nameless. She had been too weak and whatever the Dark offered her, too tempting. It made him sick with grief to know the girl he had loved had fallen._

_As if she sensed his thoughts, Maerad's eyes turned on him and she smirked. "Though if they struggle, necessary force should be used."_

Maerad! _He'd called out once more, but she turned from him, taking Hem's hand, and they walked away._

Someone was shaking Cadvan awake. He was lying uncomfortably on his cot, staring up at the rough, wooden beams of the ceiling, darkened from the smoke of their fire, his mind on the past. Six months ago, Maerad had opened her Elemental powers by touching on her Darkest nature. It had left her open to an attack by the Nameless, and she had fallen; he, Saliman, and Hekibel had been taken to Den Raven, to join the other captives. In the months that followed, the forces of the Nameless, aided by Maerad, and in part, Enkir, launched attack after attack. It seemed, according the Malgorn, at least, when the Song had been broken by Maerad, the greater powers of the Bards broke with it. They were not entirely defenseless, but they were much weaker, and the White Flame had failed many. The Nameless swept over the land, his power growing. Cadvan had hoped that there would be those who could resist him, but the strength of Maerad and him joined together was too much to overcome. Besides, the Nameless was cunning.

Every town he came to, he made an offer: surrender the Bards to his forces, and the rest of the people would be left unharmed. Those who resisted were slaughtered, but few did, and the Bards weren't willing to let countless lives be taken on their behalf. The Schools, of course, were difficult to bargain with, as most of the citizens were Bards, and they had to be attacked and conquered. New rulers were put in their stead, new First Circles were formed, and new laws were passed. The Bards were taken back to Den Raven, to the darkness and the death, and were made slaves under the rule of the Nameless.

Cadvan had been surprised when none of the Bards were offered the chance to become Hulls, though most would have refused. It seemed the Nameless didn't need any more dark sorcerers, but he needed slaves. The adult Bards were put to work, grueling tasks that broke their souls. Often, they were required to use their magic, but in a sick semblance. Where once they would have called on the power of the Light to heal the wounded or help plants grow, or create new and comely things, the power of the Nameless hung over them, his Darkness infecting their souls. It had become physically painful and exhausting to perform magic, but there was no alternative. The edicts of the Nameless-The Lord of the Light-had come, and the Bards were forced to comply.

Bards like Indik, who were gifted in the art of weapon making, were ordered to craft not only weapons, but all the monstrous, metal machines the Nameless used. Silvia and the other healers, were used, strangely enough, to go out into the land and try to sing life back into it. Cadvan suspected, given his confrontation with Maerad, that she was responsible for this, but also that the citizens of Den Raven wanted fresh lands, living lands that they could farm. It seemed that the Nameless liked to keep her happy, and that the two of them were going to build a world together, the one she imagined, but the one He ruled. Bards like himself, Saliman, and Malgorn, who were versed in High Lore, were perhaps the most ill-used, because it was their magic the Nameless used so cruelly. They were charged with the crafting of complex spells. It was never the same every day, but it was always torturous. Already, Cadvan had been forced to spend weeks giving life to dog soldiers, he had been ordered to summon Dark creatures from the Void, he made binding spells for prisons, and he had once been forced to mind touch with a number of Hulls, who were weather working. That encounter had left him trembling with cold and he'd needed an extra day in bed to recover.

However, what Cadvan had considered the worst, was that the Nameless knew he was a Truthteller. Often, he would be called away from spell work to interrogate new prisoners, perform scrying, and determine their secrets. He hated it more than anything, hated watching their faces fall apart, hating the feeling that their souls were laid bare to him. At first he had refused, and the results had been disastrous. He had received a lashing, but the Bard he was supposed to interrogate had been killed, and he had watched. He hadn't refused again.

What worried Cadvan and the others the most, though, was that the Minor Bards were being re-educated. They were all taken to special dormitories, and were kept away from the others. It was said they were being taught the new ways of the Nameless, and that they would be the next generation to leave Den Raven and go out into Annar and rule the Schools. Though Cadvan suspected that most of the Minor Bards didn't agree with the tutelage, they couldn't refuse.

_What will become of this world when the Light has passed away? _Cadvan wondered, still staring up at the burnt ceiling. _When the ways of the Knowing are broken and all the beauty of this world has fallen into shadow?_ His thoughts were cut off by someone grabbing his shoulder.

"Cadvan, wake up." It was Saliman, and he looked worn, his skin paler than usual. "It's an hour before the first bell."

All the Bards had been given living quarters in Den Raven, small, mean, makeshift homes that lined dirt streets. They had four rooms: a kitchen that opened to a small sitting area, two bedrooms, and a bathroom which, was a grand name for a small lean-to with a pebbled floor where one could dump a bucket of water over their body. They were comically referred to as the Barracks by the Hulls and other gentry of Den Raven. He shared his room with Saliman and Hekibel, across from them, Malgorn, Silvia, and Indik had the other. When he came out into the sitting area, it was to find Silvia trying desperately to keep a fire going in the small grate.

"It's not cold enough for a fire," Cadvan said, sitting beside her on the wooden floor, watching the embers glow. "We'll be warm enough without one."

She smiled wanly. "I'm warming water for a bath, Cadvan. The Light knows we all need one, just to ease the sore muscles, forget everything else." Cadvan closed his eyes and was reminded of Maerad, always wanting baths. "You especially," continued Silvia. "We want to make sure you can impress Maerad, don't we?"

This drew him up short. "I'm not trying to woo her, Silvia."

"Well, you want to make a good impression anyway," she shrugged, just as Malgorn stepped out of the bathroom, his hair dripping. "Go fill that one with water; Hekibel is out there too, and I don't like her wandering alone. A pretty thing like that…"

Cadvan gently pushed Silvia to the side and breathed on the embers, nudging them here and there with a stick; in a few moments, the fire sprang to life. "She's not helpless, Silvia, and besides, we're living with our fellow Bards. No one is going to hurt her."

"You know some of the Nameless's men come through here." Silvia built the fire up, watching the water simmer. "I don't like her out alone. She's got no magery to call on, so to speak, and no way of defending herself. I'm surprised they even let her stay here; this place is a prison for Bards, not common folk."

Cadvan covered his eyes. "I suspect Maerad might have had a hand in it, for good or ill, I don't know." They sat in silence, unable to put Maerad from their minds, but soon, the water began to bubble, and Silvia handed him to the bucket.

By the time the first bell sounded, they had all bathed, and Saliman had managed to prepare them a breakfast of warm oatmeal. They trudged out of their shack and into the still dark street and greeted their neighbors with the usual stiff bow, waiting for the second bell, and the gates at the end of the road to open. Cadvan looked for any faces he knew, but there were none, and he felt a small stirring of hope, that some of his friends were still free. At his side, Saliman shivered in the cool morning air.

"Have you given any thought to our work today?"

Cadvan knew Saliman had been particularly unhappy with the previous day's work, where he'd had to weave defensive spells around a contingent of soldiers leaving for war. "I've no idea what they plan for us. But take heart, my friend, perhaps we will be stationed together."

In truth, Cadvan was wishing Maerad would make good on her word and order that he be exempt from daily work. Though being around her was disconcerting and painful, he preferred it to the mind numbing services he performed in the name of the army of the Nameless. However, it seemed that Maerad was either very busy, or very forgetful, because he was not taken to her. The sound of the second bell rang across the shacks and the Bards marched toward the gate. There, they were each met by an overseer, who would determine where Bards would be sectioned for the week. Branded on the inside of each Bard's arm was a symbol that detailed their set of skills, and a number; Cadvan had a circle with signified him as a Bard of higher Knowing, and a vertical line through it, which marked him as a Truthteller. Cadvan was soon separated from his companions, and was taken to one of the intake buildings where he would perform scrying. He watched enviously as Saliman and Malgorn were taken to tend to beasts, and would have given anything to spend a day with animals, even the vicious hounds that the Nameless used to run people down. Instead Cadvan found himself sitting in a cold, brick room, trying to clear his mind for the day ahead.

The sounds of screaming and weeping echoed down the halls and Cadvan tried to push it from his mind, tried to sink down to a deeper level of himself where he would be free from the cold and the fear and the pain. It was almost like pulling away layers of himself and leaving behind only a numb pair of watchful eyes; it was safest for him to feel nothing, safer than allowing himself sympathy for those he would have to scry. When the door groaned, Cadvan blinked up at the person entering.

"Surprised to see you back here, Cadvan." It was a warden, the one who had killed the man Cadvan refused to scry. He had a narrow face with small, mean black eyes that glittered with pleasure at the sight of Cadvan before him. He stalked forward, pausing now and then, his eyes resting on Cadvan's face, looking for something, but Cadvan kept his face even. "I thought you had moved on to _bigger and better things_. I thought you had friends in high places?"Cadvan blinked back at him, unresponsive. "Perhaps not nearly as high as you thought, or maybe they didn't think so highly of you?"

_Don't think of Maerad, don't think of her looking at you with those empty eyes._

"Did they decide you were a bit too dull for them?" He moved so that he stood before Cadvan. "Now, you're nothing. Now, all you're good for is this." He gestured around the bare room, devoid of life, and he leaned down so their faces are on level. "Is it painful?"

Cadvan looked down then, if only to stop those glimmering eyes away from his thoughts. "Have you come only to taunt me, or do you actually have work for me, Ilard?"

"Be careful, Cadvan," he warned, his smirk dropping. "Perhaps these important friends of yours may allow for your lip, but I certainly won't."

Cadvan allowed his eyes to move down to the man's shoes. They were worn, a hole forming where his big toe was rubbing against the leather. "I haven't forgotten."

"You had better not, Cadvan, or I'll find the whip." Ilard knew that Cadvan's averted looked wasn't one of deference or fear, just one of disinterest. "Now, get yourself together; I'm going to bring the first captive."

Cadvan waited until Ilard had left before he lifted his face, and it was dark and closed. He didn't want to have to go through this again. There were a few minutes of sick silence but soon, the sound of footsteps drew closer again and Cadvan spread his hands out before him. The door opened again and Ilard came in, dragging a woman by the scruff of her shirt. When she saw the room before her, she panicked, struggling helplessly against the man. He dragged her forward and slammed her into the chair opposite Cadvan. He drew a short sword and held it against the back of her neck.

"You're going to be scried now, and if you refuse-" here, Ilard cast a nasty look at Cadvan "-you'll be killed."

The woman looked from Ilard to Cadvan, desperation in every line of her body. "I've told you everything!" she cried. She looked toward Cadvan. "I swear on the Light, I've told you everything. Please, don't, don't scry me."

_I'm sorry, _Cadvan wanted to say, _I'm so sorry._

"Please, I've told them everything." She clutched Cadvan's hand rather painfully. "You don't need to do this. I'm not a liar."

"I don't have a choice," Cadvan said squarely, and managed to pull the woman's hand off his wrist. She heaved a dry sob and Cadvan hated this place and these people even more. "Please, put your hands on my shoulders, and this'll be much easier. What's your name?"

She drew a shuddering breath and lifted her face to his. "Marta."

Cadvan gently brushed her face. She was young, perhaps she had just graduated from her Minor Bard status, and Cadvan saw her face was almost blank with shock. Too much in too short a time. "It'll be alright, Marta. I need you to empty your mind, though, and it'll make this much easier."

Marta closed her eyes and pressed her face into Cadvan's hand, taking what little comfort she could from the presence of a friend. "What's your name?"

"Cadvan," he said, and she chanced a faint smile. "Just look into my eyes."

Marta did as he asked and he felt the world fall away from them. Her memories flashed past his eyes, but through his entire being. He saw her as a little girl, being named a Minor Bard of Desor, in class, learning scales, playing a flute with her small, delicate hands. She was sitting in a courtyard, eating with friends, secreted around a table with another Bard, a boy with brown eyes like a deer. Then, faster, her memories before she was Bard: chasing her little sister around a farm yard, her mother braiding her hair, her father, starting a fire in a small grate in their small house. Then, her memories lurched into the present again. The attack on Desor. She was running to the gates, summoned like all the adult Bards, the army, vast and black stretched out before her and she wondered how she, trained in the Tending, could possibly make any difference in this war. A man, a soldier stepped forward from the army, he gave their ultimatum; she felt terror grip her. How could she choose between herself and her human family? The Bards were leaving the city, driven like cattle at the whips of their masters. She was trudging between lines of armed men, she was weeping for her family. She was alone. Endless days, endless nights, an eternity of fear and loss, and it ended in this awful place.

Cadvan jerked away just as he saw his own face swimming up before him. He felt Marta lean against him, her body racked by renewed sobs, and he tried to order all this thoughts, all her memories.

"Well?" Ilard snapped, looking dispassionately at Marta.

_Well, go away and leave this poor girl alone. _"She is of the Tending," he said harshly, but Marta didn't seem to notice, and he rubbed her back. "She was born to two humans and is skilled in the art of healing."

Ilard spat on the ground. "Healing? Useless!" He spun around and threw the door open.

"Marta, they're going to take you now," he said, and she sat back so she could look in his face. "You're going to have to be brave now, because they're going to mark you and then take to you to the ghetto where they keep the Bards. Do you understand?"

"I don't want to go," Marta whispered weakly. She did look ill, and Cadvan wondered if the scrying had gone hard on her.

He cupped her face in his hands and she glanced up into his eyes against her will. "You won't be alone, Marta, they will house you with other Bards. It'll be over soon."

The door opened behind them and Ilard was coming back for her. She shook her head frantically, even as Ilard grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. "Please, please, I don't want to go. Cadvan!" she cried as they dragged her out.

Again, the door closed, and Cadvan was left alone. He closed his eyes and tried to push away all of Marta's memories, but he kept seeing the Black Army approaching Desor, and it sickened him. He felt so tired, and so ill used, and leaned back in his seat, thinking again of Maerad sitting in her lavish rooms and sipping her wine.

_We need help, Maerad, _he thought, but his thoughts were cut off when he heard an awful screech. It tore through the air and grated against his nerves.

_You should have warned her about the branding_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

By the time Cadvan stumbled back into the small cabin, he was shaking with the histories of ten different Bards, and his face was closed. He slumped in, his face in his hands, and he leaned against the wall.

"By the Light, Cadvan!" It was Saliman, and he rushed forward, reaching for him at the same moment as Silvia hurried forward, a bowl of warm oat meal in her hands.

"Here, come away from the door. Come sit by the grate and I'll make a fire," Hekibel said, and she helped Saliman support him over to the grate. She set to work, starting a fire, while Saliman felt Cadvan's face and wrists.

"No, don't," Cadvan croaked. "It's too hot in here already."

"Stoke it up," said Saliman, ignoring Cadvan. "He's cold."

Silvia dropped down by them, holding the bowl of gruel, which Saliman took from her. "He's as bad as Malgorn. What were you doing today?" pressed Silvia, catching Cadvan's face and holding it between her fingers. "Was it…did you go and see-?"

"No," said Cadvan, and he took the bowl in his hands and started swallowing large spoonfuls. "No, I was scrying…what happened to Malgorn?"

Silvia bowed her head. "He's sleeping right now."

"Is he ill?" Cadvan set the bowl aside. "Silvia, you should be with him right now, making sure he's alright."

Silvia smiled sadly. "He's comfortable now, Cadvan, and it's you who needs looking after. Eat your dinner," she added, when Cadvan set the bowl aside. "Malgorn will be better in the morning."

Cadvan looked ready to argue but Hekibel, who had gotten a fire going, snatched up the bowl and shoved a spoonful in his mouth. He looked outraged at her swift intervention, but Saliman was smiling slightly at her, and he went to fetch the bedding from Cadvan's cot.

"A slave escaped," said Silvia gently, coming to join them by the fire even though she could feel runnels of sweat on her back. "They set some of those hounds on him, and they ran him down. They sent Malgorn after the dogs to bring the man back. It was awful." Silvia was silent for a time, and Cadvan could see that whatever had transpired had frightened her. "The slave wasn't dead yet, but the dogs had…they were so vicious." Cadvan reached out for her, but Silvia didn't respond. "And then they wanted Malgorn to heal him so they could interrogate him about how he had managed to escape in the first place, but the poor man was so-so wounded…"

Cadvan recalled, as if from another life, Gilman's Cot and the hounds Maerad had lived in terror of. Then, he had shrugged them off, spoken a quick word in the Speech and sent them on their way. Now, the Speech was dead, and all the pleading in the world did nothing for the Bards. The hounds were driven mad by the Darkness, and they lashed out at anything and anyone, and Cadvan could only begin to speculate as to what state the slave was in.

"Malgorn is a strong man; he is a good man. He will be alright by tomorrow." Cadvan reclined back on the floor, stretching his legs out so that his entire body faced the fire, and watched the flames dance erratically before him. "Do you know what happened to the slave? Was it a Bard?"

"I think so," said Silvia, and she sat back. "And you, Cadvan, you were scrying people today?"

"Yes," he murmured, but would say no more. For a while they said nothing and Cadvan closed his eyes and tried to relax, but the door banged off the wall again as Indik entered.

"Not looking too good in here, is it?" he asked, eyeing Cadvan's prostrate body and the dark faces of the others. "Is there any of the _food _left?" He gave the pot of mashed oat meal a dark look.

"Of course," said Silvia, jumping up and hurrying over. "You should sit down, Indik. Where were you last night?"

"The Nameless is planning a campaign to claim Thorold. He is demanding weapons faster than we can make them." Indik's hands were shaking from his lack of sleep and hunger. "It goes hard when Bards are forced to fight other Bards, and I'm sick with it all."

Cadvan looked up, his thoughts on Nerili and her beautiful island. Could Thorold hold out against the Nameless and Maerad? If they fell, what would become of her?

"Eventually, this will end," said Saliman. "Whether that is better than what we have now, I don't know."

Silvia handed him a bowl and he bowed his head in thanks. "But, Cadvan, tell me of Maerad. How was she? Has the Nameless harmed her?" His eyes searched Cadvan's drawn face.

Stiltedly, Cadvan recalled his experience with Maerad and watched Indik's face turn darker and darker. When he was done, Indik frowned. "It seems as if the Dark has corrupted her mind, though perhaps not her heart. And if that is the case, there is still hope that she can be saved, but it'll fall on you, Cadvan." Indik gave him uncharacteristically soft look. "Good luck, my friend."

* * *

"How do your lessons go, Hem? You know if you ever want to become an accomplished Bard you need to study," Maerad said over a cup of warm, fragrant tea. She fixed her brother with an uncharacteristically stern look, but he smiled slyly at her and her look gave way to a playful grin.

"They're well enough," said Hem, and he spread some tart berry jam across a piece of toast. "I've begun work on the Higher Magic, defensive magic mostly."

"And do you like it?" Maerad asked, watching Hem's face. Her brother had grown into a very attractive young man. He was taller than her now, with the same, startling blue eyes, set in a serious face. The sun of the south had tanned his face pleasantly, and his hair looked darker and healthier than she had ever seen it. He was growing too, filling out into a man, and Maerad knew that in a few years, he would be a handsome. When he smiled, it looked thoughtful and a bit adventurous.

"To be honest, I think I miss some of things I was learning of the Tending," said Hem, but when Maerad opened her mouth to ask why, a sharp screech echoed through the room. "Be quiet Irc!" Hem called back.

"He's become a bit outspoken, hasn't he?" asked Maerad, eyeing the white crow across the room.

When Maerad and Hem had fallen to the Dark, Irc had sensed at once that his friend had changed. He'd flown back as quickly as he could, but when he reached Hem, it was to find a strange, empty Hem; the Hem who served the Dark. Irc had tried to reach out to him, but he found that he couldn't communicate anymore with him. It was as if the Speech had been tainted, mutated, for Hem, and the gentleness and innocence that had been their friendship was withered by the Dark.

Now, Hem kept Irc in a golden cage large enough for a man to stand in. It was full of perches and ropes, and dangling, sparkling objects that Hem remembered Irc enjoyed. He was fed the finest cuts from Hem's plate, and once a week, a servant would place a small bowl of wine in the bottom of the cage. Hem also took Irc out into Maerad's garden, which was enclosed by many spells and protections; though Irc could fly, and Hem took pleasure in knowing Irc was, perhaps, the most doted on pet in all of Annar, he didn't notice that the crow was sad.

"I wish I knew what he wanted," Hem said thoughtfully, and for the smallest moment, there was a bright light in his eyes, but then it was gone, and he shook himself slightly.

"Perhaps Cadvan will speak to him for you," Maerad mused.

Hem's face brightened. "Do you think he can?" He took a large bite of his toast, setting another bite aside for the crow. "How is Cadvan? You spoke with him for a while, didn't you?"

Maerad smiled a small, secretive smile. "He's well, I think, though perhaps a little worse for ware, but nothing I can't fix with a little time and spell work. He could probably use a few good meals, too," she added, glancing down at the breakfast set out before them.

Hem gave her a knowing look. "And what else, sister? Does he make you happy?"

She blushed ever so slightly. "Hem, I have been feeling so empty lately, so bored with all this work, and I strained myself, trying to remember what it was I had so much of before that I lost now." She laughed. "I trudged all over the country side, in rain and sun, warmth and cold, and running from danger and dashing to the safety of the Schools. I thought what I wanted was to settle down in a School and learn my scales and read and play, but I was _wrong._" Maerad stood up and strode back and forth before Hem. "Through everything, I was at his side. No matter how bad it got, no matter how terrified I was, Cadvan was always there. We had so many memories, so many good times. When I saw him come through the doors of my rooms, it was like all those days and nights of travel had come back to me."

Hem reached out and took Maerad's hand. "Then you can have him, Maerad. The Lord of Light will give you whatever you wish, especially one of your friends. When will you have him brought again?"

"I'd like to soon," said Maerad, sitting back down. "His company was a bit dull, since he couldn't play-his hands were somewhat damaged, but I hope that he'll be better tomorrow. I think he really enjoyed the garden."

"Your garden is beautiful," said Hem and he peeked out his window to look down on the world of blossoms below. "Can we go for a walk after breakfast? I'd like to take Irc to stretch his wings."

"Of course, Hem," said Maerad, spearing a bit of egg on her fork and chewing it.

"Have you heard about any of the others?" Hem pressed "What about that woman you always spoke of? Silvia?"

Maerad's face was a strange combination of passion and confusion, and she looked politely interested. "Cadvan said she wanted to see me, and that she was as lovely as ever. I do miss her so much, but I sometimes worry she may not be too pleased with me."

Hem's face was the picture of shock. "How could she be? Look what you have done! You have accomplished more than any other Bard before you. You have mastered the Tree Song and the powers of the Elementals. You are building a world, a beautiful world-"

"-_We_ are building a world."

"Yes, yes, Maerad, but that's not the point. If Silvia loved you as much as you said, and I think she did, then she won't care how you gained your power. She will only care for you."

"And if she doesn't?" Maerad pushed.

Hem could see how concerned his sister was and he leaned over the table and kissed her cheeks. His voice, when he spoke, however, was considerably colder. "Then what is she to you? You are the Queen of this world and she is but a subject. She will do as you say."

"And if I tell her to love me," said Maerad, nodding her head, "then she will love me."

"It'll be as you like it," Hem agreed.

"It will be," Maerad said with determination. "Come, let's go to the garden and take the air."

Hem jumped up, more excited for the fresh air and freedom of the garden than his breakfast. He rushed over to where Irc sat, disgruntled in his cage, and reached forward, holding a small length of chain to tie to his ankle. Irc flapped his wings, furious that he had to be tied. Hem struggled with him for a bit, but finally he managed to pull free with the bird bound. "Just calm down, Irc," said Hem while the crow continued to flutter about. "I'm taking you outside!"

"You might consider spelling him," said Maerad as they left his rooms for hers and the entrance to the gardens. "He'd be much more amenable to your requests."

"I like him to have his freedom," said Hem. "I don't want him to think he's a prisoner, but I think sometimes he isn't happy. He pines."

Maerad laughed and threw open the doors to the garden. The moment they were in the open air, Hem released Irc and the crow took off. They walked a bit, Hem admiring Irc's flight pattern.

"You said," Maerad began, "that you wanted to study the Tending again. Why?"

Hem glanced at his sister. "Well, to be honest, it's for the same reason you wanted Cadvan back. Sometimes, I think I'm missing something that I had before, and I think it might be Saliman."

Maerad cast him a swift glance. "Do you miss him much?"

Hem shrugged. "He was my best friend for so long, after you, of course. He took me to Turbansk, he made me a Minor Bard, he defended me when we ran, and taught me everything I knew of Barding." Hem looked down at his hands. "I miss that companionship, I suppose."

"Saliman was not too happy with us when we chose our sides," said Maerad, considering.

"No, but, well, you said this was _our world_, didn't you?" Maerad nodded. "And I can have whatever I want. If I want Saliman as my friend, he will be my friend, won't he? Like Cadvan is yours?"

"Yes," said Maerad, looking forward. "Yes."

"Will you ask Cadvan next time you see him if he will speak to Saliman for me?" Hem's eyes were glimmering with excitement. "It's been so long since I've seen Saliman. I wonder what he thinks of our new world."

Maerad thought of Cadvan's face, guarded and surprised. "I think they should count themselves lucky we still call them our friends."

* * *

The work load was lighter the next day, and Cadvan wasn't forced to perform any more scrying. He spent his day weaving protective charms around a contingent of soldiers; it was tiresome work, and it left him weary, but it didn't make him sick. He returned to their cabin first and slumped on the floor. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

_Maerad looked so small and perfect in the moonlight. Her eyes were like sapphires, beautiful, sparkling sapphires set in a pale, round face. Her hair fell like a curtain of inky blackness when she looked away from him. Coyly, almost. Cadvan reached out, cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face up to his. It was painful, how lovely she was, and Cadvan ached for her. Her lips turned up invitingly and Cadvan felt every part of him wanting her. He leaned in closer._

Don't, _said a small voice. _She's afraid of men. She trusts you, but you'll lose her if you push._ But Cadvan didn't care. How could he? _Reach out. Touch her. Kiss her.

_Cadvan ducked his head and pressed his lips against hers. They were soft and supple and tasted sweet like wine. She didn't press away from him. She didn't lash out like she had at Dernhil. She was completely still. When Cadvan pulled back he looked down on her face and was horrified._

_Maerad was staring at him with shock, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. "Cadvan, why would you do that?"she asked, trembling all over. _

_He tried to reach out for her but she was falling away, and all that was left were those dark eyes, cold and unforgiving, staring at him, accusing him. Hateful._

Cadvan jerked awake just as Saliman came in with Malgorn. "…seen the man since?"

"Just this morning. He could walk, it seemed, but the Hulls didn't say what was going to happen to him. I think they took him to be scried today." Malgorn looked worn, but he spotted Cadvan and hurried over. "Did they have you scrying today, Cadvan?"

Cadvan's thoughts were still on his dream, but he pulled himself out enough to say, "No."

"I thought perhaps you might have seen the young man," Malgorn sighed heavily. "I hope they aren't too hard on him."

"How old was he?" Cadvan asked.

"Maybe twenty," Malgorn said heavily. "He was too young. He thought he could outrun the hounds, though where he was planning on running to, I'll never know. He didn't get a mile before they caught him."

"How bad was it?" pressed Saliman.

"He almost lost his arm," said Malgorn after a long moment. "It was torn almost clean off the joint. Great gashes all over his back and chest. One of fingers was…missing. His face had been scarred pretty badly too. I did all I could for the poor boy but I doubt his arm will work again."

Cadvan bowed his head. "Maybe he'll be given easier work from now on."

"We can only hope, though I think the Hulls might find it amusing to make him return to his normal shift," said Saliman, who had started a fire to boil water. As soon as it was bubbling he poured in the usual mixture of dry oats and stirred. "Did you catch his name, Malgorn?"

"No," said Malgorn. "He was in no condition to speak, the poor boy. He was choking on blood when they brought him in to me."

The three men sat in silence a long while and by the time Silvia and Hekibel returned, Saliman had their dinner almost ready. Cadvan was too wrapped up in his thoughts about his dream to really pay much attention to what they had to say.

"…stationed in the guard's keep today," Hekibel was saying. "Mostly cleaning, but it gives me a chance to hear any news."

_Maerad's eyes, her uncertain smile, her soft voice._

"The march on the west begins soon. Within the month. Isn't that what you said, Indik?" Indik had arrived and he was in a foul mood from work.

_She had looked so sweet, so delicate._

"…sooner if they can get the weapons together."

"Will they take any Bards with them?"

"It is to be hoped not," Indik said darkly.

_Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She wanted him._

"…calling a meeting. We'll all have to go," Hekibel said.

"When?" Silvia asked.

"This evening, I heard."

"_Why would you do that?"Her confusion. Her pain._

"There's going to be a bell. Soon, I would think." Hekibel was pushing food around her plate. "Cadvan, any word from Maerad today?"

_She still loved him. Even if he did kiss her, she'd still love him-_

"What?" Cadvan started at the mention of her name.

"Have you heard from Maerad? It's been two days now, hasn't it?" Hekibel's gaze rested on his face, but it annoyed him slightly, like she was reminding him that Maerad still hadn't called for him.

"No, no I haven't," he said after a moment. "I hope to hear from her soon."

"Maybe she has some insight into the war," Saliman said hopefully. "She might still be an ally."

"I'm telling you, Cadvan," said Indik with a grim smile, "you're going to have to win her over for us."

"I don't know how strong the Dark's power is over her-"

A bell cut Cadvan off, a long peal that summoned all the Bards to the front of the guard house. Cadvan closed his eyes and pulled himself up to his feet, following the trudging steps of his friends. They made their way, up the dirt paths, past the countless cabins just like their own, past their fellow Bards who looked beaten down by the Dark.

The guard house was a large, three story, brick building that stood on a slight rise over the Barracks. Hulls were stationed there every day, and took shifts every week. Their job was to keep watch over the Bards, but the power of the Dark and the broken Song seemed to exert enough force on them to keep the Bards at bay. A small, paved path led down from the guard house and ended at a platform. It was on this platform that the Hulls now stood, and between them was a slouched young man.

"By the Light," Cadvan heard Malgorn curse.

He didn't look good, Cadvan thought. There was a scar that ran the length of his face and, and the skin had been sown together. His right arm hung loosely in its socket, useless at this point. His left hand was wrapped in gauze and cloth, hiding the missing fingers. His clothing was soiled, covered in blood stains and dirt, and he looked like he hadn't eaten in days. Through his torn shirt, Cadvan could see wounds, gashes and bite marks that mottled his chest and back. He was shaking, looking between his two guards and then desperately out at the crowd.

There was silence for a long moment, the eyes of the Bards on him, and his eyes on them.

"We summoned you here this evening because of a disconcerting event that occurred earlier yesterday," said a Hull, stepping forward. He strolled back and forth along the platform, like a professor giving a lesson to a lecture hall. "Perhaps some of you might have heard? Maybe, you even saw it?" His eyes landed on a few unfortunate Bards at the front of the crowd, as if looking for an answer.

"This _Bard_," he said the word with distaste. "Attempted to escape." The other Hulls were laughing, as if the entire notion of escape were ridiculous. "And, I must admit, I am…confused." He smiled then, and it did nothing for his face; indeed, Cadvan thought it made him look more vicious. "Are you not provided for here? Do we not give you food? Water? A roof to cover your heads? You are still allowed to use your magic, yes?"

There was no answer. They would have been fools to do anything but stand before the Hulls with blank faces. Instead, the lead Hull turned to the man, slumped on the stage, and voice could have been a whip, the way the man flinched away.

"Are you not happy here? Do you not like the food we have given you? Are the conditions not to your liking?" When the Bard said nothing, the Hull lifted his hand, and made as if to strike him. "Answer me!"

"Yes," croaked the Bard.

"Yes, _what?_" the Hull pressed.

"Yes, the conditions are to my liking."

"Then why," began the Hull, and he was pacing again, "did you run away? If this home we have provided you is everything you want, why did you try to leave it?"

The Bard looked out to the assembled crowd as if they had the answer, but not one spoke, so spat out a mouthful of blood and spoke. "I…I wanted to see my home."

"This is your home," answered the Hull swiftly.

"I was a fool." His voice cracked and he could say no more.

"You were," agreed the Hull. He turned to face his audience. "Surely, you all realize that escape is impossible? To even attempt such a thing is to take the first steps on the long, painful road that brings you to this stage. I'm quite sure this young man knows about that, doesn't he?" The Hulls gestured to his comrades who jerked the Bard up to his feet and tore the remains of his clothing off. There was a collective gasp from the group.

Whatever damage the dogs had done, it was nothing compared to the work of the Hulls. Huge sections of his body were covered in burns, burns still leaking white pus. There were bruises too, broken bones and swelling skin, and puncture wounds that could have been made by almost anything. One of his knees was swollen and ugly purple, and Cadvan guessed the knee might be dislocated. It explained why the man couldn't walk.

"Your actions do have repercussions," said the Hull. "If you choose to run, you will be punished. Severely." The Hull stepped back and allowed the crowd another long look at the poor man, collapsed on the stage. Then, with a fierce swiftness, he drew a short dagger from his cloak, approached the Bard, and slit his throat. Blood blossomed from his throat, drizzling down his front and pooling on the stage where he crumpled forward into it. An awful gurgling sound was heard while he gasped for life, and the silence that followed was more complete than death. "For now, we will release you all…with a warning."

Beside Cadvan, Silvia and Hekibel had both hidden their faces, and Saliman, Malgorn, and Indik wore the same look of grim resignation.

The Hull turned to the nearest servant. "Take the body and display it by the gates." The Bard's corpse was dragged away, leaving behind a trail of glistening blood, and the eyes of hundreds of Bards turned back to the Hull. "I hope this has been a most educational experience. Get back to your _homes_."

The Hulls were gone in a fluttering of their black cloaks, leaving only blood and fear in their wakes. Cadvan felt numb with shock at what he had seen. He supposed he shouldn't have been so foolish as to believe that the boy would have gotten away with breaking their laws, but he didn't think he would be killed. It made him sick, the way he had been slaughtered, like an animal, except his body was going to hang like a flag of surrender from the Bards.

"Come on, I can't be here anymore," Saliman muttered to Cadvan, and drew him away.

Back in their cabin, the mood was grim and bitter, and no one had much to say. Malgorn looked like he might be ill soon, and Silvia was trying to heat water for tea. Cadvan put his face in his hands and hoped it would all go away: the cabin, the Hulls, the poor boy dying on the stage, and his body hoisted up like a rag doll for the world to see. He felt like something cold and dark had crept into him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't make it go away. Sometime later, they all agreed to go to bed, but there was little else on their minds except the young Bard.

When the next bell woke him, Cadvan wasn't ready and he rolled sluggishly out of bed. Saliman was shaking Hekibel, who had curled up tight in the blankets. He went through the same, painful morning routine of eating the warm gruel they were given, rinsing himself off, and then slouching out into the cool morning air. A heaviness was on him though, as he approached the gate and the wardens, and it was made worse when he saw the limp body of the Bard hanging like a puppet. He stared at his feet, hoping to push the memory away.

"We've been looking for this one," said the voice of the warden in his ear. Cadvan's eyes flashed up to see two men considering his marked arm; one of them was eyeing the number on his arm, looking displeased.

"But we need interrogators," the other said.

"The Lady's orders, and I'm not about to have her bad favor," his fellow said. He shot Cadvan a nasty look. "Ilard won't be pleased with you, but I suppose you can cross that barrier when you come to it."

_The Lady's orders, he said. _Cadvan trained his face into something calm, but a larger part of him was frantic. _Has Maerad sent for me again?_

"Have him escorted up to the Lady's chambers," the warden grunted. "But keep an eye on him!"

Cadvan wouldn't have run even if he had the strength to. He needed to see Maerad, speak to her, try to convince her to return to the Light. His eyes searched the crowd around him as a man bound his wrists, and he caught Saliman's eye. A shared look of hope passed between them and Cadvan bowed his head just a little.

_I'll go to Maerad, I'll speak with her_, he wanted to say._ I'll get us help._


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone, sorry this came out a little late. I've started studying for a a graduate school exam, so my next few chapters might come a little sporadically as I get closer to the date. I hope you like this thought! **

Chapter Four

Cadvan was led through the twisting street and maze of corridors back to Maerad's rooms. This time, the doors were imposing because he knew what lay beyond them. When he had first arrived, he had thought Maerad was being held prisoner and he had been terrified of the state he would find her in; when he saw her, happy, glowing and powerful it had been so much worse. He tried to compose his face into something collected, something Maerad wouldn't read into, but it was difficult.

"My Lady, I've brought the Bard," said Cadvan's escort, dragging him by the scruff of his neck. Cadvan stumbled and twisted in the man's grasp and ended up falling to the floor in a heap.

"No need to be so rough with my friends," said Maerad harshly, and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. It sent shivers through Cadvan but Maerad didn't seem to notice. "Now, get out of here. I'll summon you to take him back later."

"Yes, My Lady," he said and bowed himself out.

There was a protracted silence while Maerad watched the door close before she spoke. "I really need better help. Here, come, I've prepared a breakfast for us and I won't take any excuses; you're eating whether you've have breakfast or not."

Cadvan rose up and saw that Maerad was heading toward the glass doors and the garden, and he followed her carefully. They came out on the small patio where a table was piled with fresh, steaming food; there was a platter of scrambled eggs, a stack of crisp toast, a pile of sausage, and a picture of chilled water. He thought of his meager breakfast earlier that morning and his stomach twisted at the sight of so much food. Maerad seated herself and gestured vaguely at the chair opposite her.

"Really, Cadvan, I do apologize for the treatment by the Hulls, but I haven't much say in how the Bards are handled," said Maerad as she scooped a large portion of eggs onto her plate. "I have spoken with the Lord of Light, of course, and we have agreed on a few things, but he fears the Bards will try to attack him, and he's right. I don't think they're too pleased with him."

Cadvan said nothing to that, unsure how Maerad would take to his words. Instead, he contented himself with buttering a piece of toast and nodding to her words.

"I did want there to be schools, the Sharma told me they built some for the young Bards." She smiled, as if this were a great thing. Cadvan doubted she had seen those _schools_. "And, consequently, Hem was responsible for making sure Saliman and Hekibel were housed together. A small kindness I'm sure he's forgotten…"

"Saliman did wonder how it was that Hekibel had come to be housed with us," Cadvan said hurriedly. "And I assure you, he's not disappointed."

Maerad took a bite of eggs and chewed them thoughtfully. "Then he can thank Hem properly when he sees him next."

Cadvan looked up at that. "Has Hem asked to see him?"

"Hem mentioned to me that he might like to see Saliman, and asked me to pass on the invitation to you. Tomorrow, you can let me know his answer." Maerad leaned back in her seat and sipped her water eyeing Cadvan speculatively. He had lowered his gaze again, and was carefully eating a fork full of egg when he felt her eyes on him.

He smiled up at her. "I will happily pass on the news. So, what have you planned for the day? I admit, I much prefer your company than to that of the wardens and Hulls."

"I can imagine you do," she said cryptically. "I thought after we eat that you would speak to Irc for Hem. The crow hasn't been acting himself lately and we're worried."

"I'd be happy to," Cadvan said softly.

"Then, we'll have the day to ourselves, perhaps for singing or reading. I've taken up _gis_, though I find I'm a poor player." Maerad was examining Cadvan's arms and face. "You're covered in dirt, Cadvan."

He flushed a bit, but it didn't sting as much as she had meant. "A hard man of the wild."

She smiled narrowly. "I'll have someone run a bath for you today. "

"I'll just get dirty tomorrow," he said wearily.

"No, because you'll be coming back tomorrow," answered Maerad, as if this should have been obvious. She smiled suddenly, and Cadvan saw her more clearly, like some of the Darkness had been pulled away. "Do you remember our first night in Innail? We'd both been covered in sweat and grime, and the Light knows what else. I remember bathing, and Silvia sitting there, and I thought, surely, she was going to reprimand me for how filthy the water was, but she just laughed…" Her face softened markedly and the hard light in her eyes dimmed. "I do miss Silvia."

"She'd love to visit you," Cadvan urged her. "She asked so much about you."

"You want me to see her?" Maerad asked curiously.

Her sharp gaze set Cadvan on edge, like she was trying to pull back any concealments and see only him. "It would make her happy."

"I didn't ask if it would make her happy, I asked if it would make _you _happy." Maerad's lips quirked up ever so slightly.

"I suppose it would, yes. Silvia is my friend and I hate to see her suffer," he said guardedly.

Maerad seemed to agree. "Then I shall have to see her soon." She stood suddenly, tossing down her napkin. "Come, Hem has been at me for days about Irc."

Cadvan rose and, keeping close to Maerad as they left her rooms, followed her down the hall to another set of double doors. Maerad didn't knock, simply threw them open and entered. She scanned the sitting room before saying, "Hem, I've brought Cadvan."

There was the sound of padding feet and Hem emerged from the bedchamber. He looked older to Cadvan, a little taller, and broader in the chest. His eyes, so like Maerad, flicked over Cadvan before he smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Cadvan. It's been too long." He came forward, his hand out to shake Cadvan's, and when he felt his grip, it was strong and steady. There was no guile, no darkness in his eyes, and Cadvan assumed that Hem was just as consumed with the Darkness as Maerad. "I hope you'll be able to help me with Irc; he's been behaving rather oddly."

"Are you giving him enough sparkling things?" Cadvan asked with a wry smile.

Hem laughed. "I've housed him in a cage of gold, what more could the crow ask for?"

Cadvan followed Hem into his bedchamber where Irc's large cage was kept. The crow, upon seeing Cadvan shrieked in greeting.

_Cadvan! You've come to speak sense to my friend, haven't you? _He hopped to the perch nearest he bars and fluttered his wings. _I've tried again and again, and Hem doesn't understand me; he stares at me like I've gone mad. My words are senseless to him!_

Cadvan crossed the room and knelt so he could be on level Irc. _Senseless? I have heard Maerad use the Speech. Surely, he can understand you?_

_He uses the Speech, but it is dead to him._ Cadvan shuddered when the crow said dead. _They speak it, they use it, but it doesn't live in them like it did. They are empty. Hem is empty!_

_Take heart,_ Cadvan said, and though he wanted to say more, to assure the crow he was trying to help Maerad and Hem, he daren't speak so plainly before her. Perhaps she couldn't understand the bird speech, but she could certainly understand him. _I am spending much time with them, and it will be like it was. What is it you want from Hem? He's worried about you._

Irc ducked his head. _I want Hem back. He's not there. He gives me food and pretty things and lets my fly all around the garden, but I don't see Hem._

Cadvan cringed. It was just like Maerad; she was there, she was kind, she was welcoming, but something fundamental was missing from her. _I will tell him for you._

_Is it the same with Maerad? _Irc wondered, eyeing her with his beady gaze. _Does she walk but not live?_

Cadvan sighed. _Yes, but I think it can be made better. I think we can fix it. _

_I hope so, _he said, and shuffled his feet nervously. _He comes, he comes!_

"So, have you made sense of him?" Hem asked hopefully. "Is he sick?"

"No," Cadvan said with a comforting look. "No, he just…feels like you two haven't spent as much time together as before and worries he's losing you."

Hem looked through the bars to Irc, who cried at him. "I suppose I could take him to my lessons, but that's the only time we're ever apart."

"I think he worries you might become so great a Bard, you will forget him," Cadvan said.

Hem poked a cracker through the bars of the cage. "I won't forget you, Irc. Ever."

Cadvan looked over and saw Maerad smiling at him, the kind of smile she used to wear, soft and uncertain. "Well, I'm glad I could help, even if it's only talking to your bird."

"I would have asked Saliman, but I couldn't wait."

"I'll make sure to speak to him for you," Cadvan said swiftly. "He's most anxious to see you again."

Hem flushed with pleasure. "Maybe next time you come, Saliman can come with you and the four of us can spend the day together."

"As it was," said Maerad, coming nearer, "perhaps you'd like to join us in the garden, Hem? We could play a bit, yes?"

Hem rushed to find a flute while Maerad led Cadvan back to her room, plucked up her lyre and then allowed him to choose an instrument from her collection. He too, chose a lyre, and then followed her into the garden. They found the spot they'd sat in before and waited for Hem came out to meet them with Irc. The white crow hopped from branch to branch in the tree, calling down to Cadvan to fix what had gone wrong with his friends. It didn't make for the best music environment.

They spent a happy few hours playing, and Cadvan allowed his mind to relax. It felt so good to be away from the ghetto and the slaves and the misery, and to be with Maerad in her beautiful garden was almost overwhelming. She and Hem continued on as if nothing had ever gone wrong in their lives; they seemed genuinely happy, which was disconcerting, and he was loathe to change their contentment.

The sun finally rose up and peaked, and Maerad set aside her instrument and stood, stretching. "It'll be lunch soon, and should wash before eating," she said with a glimmer in her eyes to Cadvan. "Come, I'll show you the bath and I'll have that servant girl bring you some clothing."

Cadvan placed the instrument down with regret and followed Maerad back through her garden and into her rooms. Maerad led him to a sprawling room, where a hole had been dug in the floor, at least ten feet long and five feet across. The floor was covered in tile depicting playful aquatic scenes: dolphins leaping forth from the ocean, colorful, exotic fish swimming in schools, sea birds swooping over a blazing sun set. The windows were tinted blue, and it made the tile seem even more alive. The bath had already been drawn and on a shelf set against one of the walls were bottles of scented oils, soaps, fresh towels, and combs and brushes. Steam rose in lazy swirls, obscuring the farther corners of the room.

"Take your time," said Maerad to Cadvan as she slipped out of the room. "I'll be waiting."

It had been a long time since Cadvan had truly bathed, and a small part of him had thought he never would again. He took his time now, sinking into the steaming water and allowing his muscles to relax; his thoughts drifted for a while, his mind on nothing but the water and the steam. He didn't know how long he lingered in the bath, but eventually, Cadvan scrubbed himself raw and rinsed his hair. On a small stool by the shelf he found new clothing, nothing special, the same tunic and pants most of the slaves wore, but it was freshly laundered. Upon careful inspection of the shelves, he also found a razor and shaved.

When Cadvan left the bathroom it was to find that Maerad had dozed off on one of the couches. He approached her carefully, almost like he would an animal, and stole a glance at her face. In sleep, she seemed much more like his Maerad: young, sweet, innocent, and pure. She rolled onto her side, her hair falling across her face, and she murmured something in her sleep. He leaned closer, curious, but she spoke no more. Tenderly, Cadvan reached out and brushed the hair off Maerad's face and she stirred.

"Cadvan?" she asked, her voice groggy from sleep.

He swallowed. "I'm here, Maerad. What do you want?" He could almost taste his longing mingling with the tension; Silvia said it would take love to free her, and she was there asking for him. He knelt down so he was on level with her, and waited for her next words.

Her eyelids fluttered open. "What took you so long?"

He chuckled, looking down. "It's been a long time since I last had the pleasure of a bath."

The corners of Maerad's mouth curled up. "Well, we can't let that happen again, can we? But, come, let's eat."

She swung her legs around and plopped down at the table outside, another huge meal laid out before her. Cadvan's stomach turned in warning; too much sweet food and he'd be sick. Maerad served herself salad and cheese, cold meats, bread, and a large glass of wine. Cadvan sank down beside her and started with just the meat and salad; Maerad eyed his bare plate ruefully, but poured him a glass of wine as well.

"I miss the wine in Thorold," she sighed, sipping the red liquor. "It was strong and sweet, like the people themselves."

Cadvan recalled a bit of the conversation he'd had with Indik. _Tread carefully. _"Have you heard at all from Thorold?"

Maerad lifted his gaze, and her eyes were sharp with intelligence. "You mean, have our forces reached Thorold yet? No, but they will leave soon."

"A brave endeavor, considering the Nameless One couldn't conquer them before."

"Call him the Lord of the Light, Cadvan, he does not appreciate that other name. It insults him." She picked over her salad. "Once Thorold was strong and nigh impossible to take, but that was before, when Sharma was only half, now he is whole. Our forces will sail to the island and raze the cities and take what is ours."

"You had friends there," Cadvan remarked, keeping his voice cool and detached. "Elenxi, Kebeka, Nerili, Ankil."

"And what of them? I suspect that they, like many of my other friends, do not agree with my choices, and I shall not be made to bear their judgment." Her voice had grown hard and Cadvan sensed her rising disquiet. "They make seek my forgiveness, though I doubt I will grant it. No, they may join the rest of the Bards in their service to the Lord of Light."

"Would you not allow them the pleasure of your company, as you have me?"

"No, I do not think I will." She chewed quietly, mulling over her thoughts. "They aren't like you, Cadvan. You forgave me all my shortcomings, even before I realized my full power, and so, I knew you would forgive me this."

"I was your mentor, it was my job to teach you, guide you, help you to better understand yourself. Not punish you for your natural failings," said Cadvan as kindly as he could.

"Exactly," said Maerad sweetly. "You are bound to forgive me, because my failings are your failings, are they not? Like that bard I killed? It was a fault in my Knowing, but a fault I had not yet been taught. I was no more responsible than you."

_You think turning to the Dark and helping the Nameless to enslave all Bards is a fault in your Knowing? _Cadvan kept his face politely blank. "And that is why you've chosen to forgive me?"

"Your mistrust in my judgment is a fault in _your _Knowing." She smiled rather nastily. "It would be a hypocrisy to punish you for a lack of knowledge." Cadvan knew she was referring to his treatment of her after she had killed the Bard, and he cringed internally. "I am not so cruel or so crude as to punish you because you have not yet learned."

"And will there come a time when you deemed I have learned enough?" Cadvan ventured.

"Yes, there will." Maerad leaned closer, her eyes dark again. "Until then, I will reserve my judgment of you and yours."

It was unsettling, the way her eyes gleamed with malice and something else he couldn't name. "I thank you for your mercy then," he said, bowing his head. When he looked up, Maerad hadn't moved a muscle, her face still set in that smug look. He sensed her growing tension, almost like a palpable thing, and he knew she would shortly grow tired of him if he didn't speak. Or, at the very least, praise her. "You have high hopes, then, of conquering Thorold?"

Maerad laughter was like the wine, sweet but bitter. "I do not hope, Cadvan, for that would be to doubt myself. I _know _we will conquer Thorold."

"And what then? When all the world is at your fingertips, what then?" He was bristling at her careless dismissal of Thorold and its people. "What will you do when this campaign is ended and all your toils are done?"

"Then I will be happy," she said with slight shrug. "Then the world-_all _the world-will be as I deem it. The Lord of Light promised me a new age of beauty and peace, and I will go forth into it, a gracious queen." She smiled at her thoughts, like she was seeing into another world, far off, free of pain and fear. She looked, Cadvan thought, like she was ready to step into that place, and take up the mantel. She would burn this world down and build anew, but those people who opposed her, they would burn with it. "And you, and all those I deem worthy, they will join me in this new world."

Cadvan stopped eating a moment, and he stared straight into her eyes. "We will? And what of those you find unworthy?"

"Perhaps they will live here, and continue to serve the Lord of the Light; perhaps they will be destroyed. I have not given much thought to them." She swirled her wine. "Why are you so worried for them anyway, Cadvan? I would have thought that those who betray my cause didn't deserve your sympathy?"

"Some of my friends are good people," he said smoothly. "Misguided, perhaps, but still good people. I would miss them sorely if they were lost."

"I will think on it then," said Maerad decisively. "I would not want you angry; you were never any fun when you were angry."

"It seems I keep owing you my thanks," Cadvan observed coolly.

She caught his wrist and Cadvan was taken aback by how strong her grip was. "You saved my life, Cadvan, many times. You were the one who took me from that miserable Cot, and you brought me to Innail, and showed me a world of Barding and beauty and light I couldn't have dreamed of. It is the very least I could do but to return the favor."

Cadvan curled his own, much larger hand, around Maerad's. "Since that day I've been racking my mind, trying to figure out exactly what led me here. It seems my entire life began from the moment I found you."

This seemed to please Maerad, who hummed like a content cat. "It shall be a long-lived life, I promise you."

Cadvan didn't loosen his grip on Maerad's hand, but he felt a small leaf of coldness unfurl in his chest. Her words were haunting him. "And what shall we do with the rest of our day together?"

"Gis? I have a lovely set, brought all the way from Norloch." She rose up from her seat imperiously, but didn't let go of his hand. He noticed her sly smile she slid at him and returned it with his own, open look.

"I haven't played in a long while, Maerad. I will surely be roundly defeated." He allowed her to lead him into her library, reveling in the feel of her small hand in his against his will.

"All the better to me," Maerad said, satisfied. "I'm a poor player to being with."

Her library was impressive, Cadvan had to admit. It was a largely proportioned room, but there were small crooks and crevices that offered privacy. She led him to a corner by an open window where they could look out over her garden and feel the warm breeze, heavy with the scent of flowers. She settled herself comfortably into a cushioned chair, finally releasing Cadvan's hand. He glanced about himself.

"Have you taken time to learn to read properly?"

She dumped the pieces on the board unceremoniously. "Yes, to some extent. I know three different scripts, but I'm still working. You would make a good tutor, I think. I will see if I can't impress upon the Lord of the Light my continued use of you." A gurgle of laughter spilled forth when she saw Cadvan's surprised face. "Have no fear. He is most agreeable to our current arrangement, but I would enjoy seeing you more often than two or three times a week. If I tell him you're my tutor, it would be so much easier."

"Well, I am still your teacher, however powerful and disagreeable you become," he chuckled.

Maerad laughed softly. "And I did promise I would not squash you like a bug, did I not?"

"Now, I am far more afraid of you turning me into something unnatural, like one of your birds you make of water." It was light-hearted, but Cadvan was beginning to realize that Maerad's power was far greater and far wilder than any other, and perhaps death at her hands was the least of his worries.

She moved a piece on the board and then looked at him while he made his move. There was nothing in face but a professional curiosity. "Hem already has a talking crow," she said decidedly, "but I could always turn you into a wolf."

* * *

Cadvan was slow as he made his way back down the dirt road to his shack. The sun had set and an unnatural cold had settled over the land making him shiver. He passed many of the pathetic barracks, their windows covered with cloth in a desperate attempt to keep the heat in, and he saw the dancing light of candles casting strange shadows on the curtains. He heard noises: soft, sad singing, as if the singer was afraid that any music would be heard and punished; dry, empty sobs of a man gone mad; whispered voices of Bards, terrified of who might be listening. The Barracks were light a sick, mirror reflection of the Schools, Cadvan realized. All that had been both beautiful and poignant about them had been turned to torment and ash here. He knew with a bone-deep dread that everything glorious and pure that had been made by the Bards would soon be just as empty as this place.

_As empty as Maerad,_ he thought, and he wanted to weep.

The door to his cabin swung with a groan and he came upon all the Bards huddled up against each other in the center of the floor of their cabin. The air inside was tense with fear and shock, and Cadvan saw that Saliman's lip was split, as if someone had struck him. Then, from the two rooms came the sound of grunting and snarling, things being torn apart. Cadvan took a step in and the door behind him slammed. A man, a soldier, emerged from his room; he took in Cadvan's new state, his clean hair, his fresh clothing, and lunged at him.

"I've found him, sir!" he cried, managing to catch Cadvan by the sleeve of his shirt.

There was a hiss like the air being released from a balloon and slowly, the dark form of a Hull appeared from the other room. On the floor, Silvia shuddered and Malgorn crushed her against his side. "Our missing Bard," the Hull said, its red eyes boring into Cadvan's. "We've been curious about your absence."

"I was summoned," Cadvan answered thickly.

"I did not tell you to speak," the Hull answered menacingly. "You were escorted from this premise this morning and went unchecked long past the final bell. We thought you had run, and we have harsh handling with escapees."

Cadvan clenched his hand into a fist. "I told you I was summoned. Why would I return if I had escaped?"

The Hull hissed again, eyeing him with mounting dislike. "Summoned by whom?"

"Maerad of Pellinor." Cadvan wondered if the Hulls referred to her differently, but the soldier holding him flashed an uncertain glance at the Hull.

"She should have returned you earlier," the Hull admonished.

Cadvan raised one eyebrow in a clearly mocking manner. "You wish to tell Maerad of Pellinor how to run her affairs? Be my guest."

The Hull's gloved hand snapped through the air and landed with a resounding thump against Cadvan's face. He staggered into the wall, tasting blood in his mouth; he also thought he knew where Saliman had gotten his split lip. The Hull came after him, snarling like an angry dog and spun him back around to face him. Cadvan's stomach lurched at the sight of his skeletal face.

"I don't appreciate a smart mouth from my slaves," he answered, holding Cadvan against the wall. "Perhaps I will speak with Mistress Maerad about her servants."

A savage part of Cadvan hoped the Hull would go to her because he would see her tomorrow, and she would certainly ask where he'd gotten the bruise on his face, and he would have the pleasure of telling her which Hull had done it. He had no doubt Maerad would seek swift retribution, especially if he mentioned Silvia cowering on the floor.

Instead, he said in a level tone, "If you think that's wise."

Something in his voice made the Hull suspicious and he slowly released Cadvan, though his eyes still burned with malice and one hand was still clamped in a fist. "Your carelessness cost your friends. Think on it next time."

Cadvan drew a sharp breath, maybe to have the last word but the Hull sank his gloved fist deep into Cadvan's stomach and he crumpled over it before slumping to the floor. The Hull signaled to the soldier who had first appeared, and the two left, slamming the door so hard it banged off the outer wall, and Cadvan watched them go through the curtain of his hair, his face bitter.

"Cadvan, we were worried when you didn't come back," Saliman said, taking his hand and helping him to his feet. "You've never been gone so long."

Cadvan watched a fresh dribble of blood break his lip and he felt his grief anew. "Maerad kept me longer than I thought. What happened?"

"Cowardly curs," Indik snarled, earning a very dark look from Malgorn, who thought that the Hulls weren't out of hearing range. "They came in here as soon as the evening bell sounded, knew you weren't back. Must have thought you'd had some escape planned."

Hekibel was trying to salvage what had been their dinner, which had been tossed on the ground when the Hull began his search. "At first they just dragged us out into the street and searched the place. When they didn't find you, they sent out search parties into the surrounding Barracks. Then they must have thought you'd hidden yourself with magic, because they brought out those awful hounds to track you."

"They knew I was with Maerad," Cadvan said darkly. "This is Ilard's doing, I'm sure of it. He's just angry I managed to avoid him again today."

"Regardless of whose doing it is," Malgorn said, "they tore the place apart, your room especially. I don't think you've got a scrap of clothing left."

Cadvan went into his small room and found that it had been torn apart in a desultory fashion. He doubted they had actually been looking for him, but were more interested in ruining what few things he had left. When he came out, the others had repaired the damage to the common room and were seated before the small fire. He sat down gingerly, the ache in his side still smarting.

"I spoke with Maerad about Thorold, and she seems certain that the Nameless One will take it," he said to no one in particular. He had a brief but vivid image of Nerili, staring at him, one eyebrow raised ironically, a teasing smile on her lips, and he covered his face in his hands. "I do not think they will have the same mercy as us."

Saliman gripped his shoulder tightly. "Perhaps there is hope. Thorold was always strong, always independent. They will fight back."

"They will be destroyed," Cadvan said bleakly. "You understand her power. If she were turn it on a person…"

Silvia bit her lip. "But you spoke to her? You tried to convince her-"

"To no end." Cadvan lifted his face from his hands and looked at Silvia squarely. "She says they will not forgive her, and will only hate her because she has turned to the Dark. She says that they do not deserve her mercy, and so, she will show them none."

Indik's face was grim. "And you, Cadvan? What makes you so special, do you know?" It almost sounded like an accusation, and Cadvan glanced up sharply, uncertain whether Indik was actually curious about him or about Maerad.

"I told you, she thinks I forgave her."

"But why?" he pushed. "Forgive me, friend, but you have never proven yourself the forgiving type."

"I was her teacher," he said, thinking back to the way she had smiled smugly at him. "She said all the mistakes she made were in part mine. I think she feels as if we are bound together in this."

Indik pulled his lower lip but said no more. Saliman, however, continued. "And you saw Hem? Is he the same as Maerad?"

Cadvan started. "He wants you to come with me tomorrow."

Saliman's eyes widened in surprise. "I thought Maerad was disapproving of me?"

"She is, but Hem was adamant, and it seems she's not going to deny her brother anything." Cadvan studied Saliman's carefully blank face. "You can't say no. If Hem does want to see you, he'll send soldiers just like Maerad did for me."

Hem was one of my most dear friends," Saliman said softly, and his face was drawn with pain. "I cannot bear the thought of him like this: empty and desolate, a slave to the Dark. I do not wish to see that boy so cruel."

"I do not think he will be cruel to you," Cadvan said in a measured voice, "but he will not be the same as you remember him."

Hekibel reached out and took Saliman's hand, and he smiled down on her fingers entwined in his. "Saliman, Maerad and Hem are bound in this together. We cannot save one without saving the other. I think you must go to him."

"I am afraid of what I will find," he admitted.

"Irc is there also," Cadvan said helpfully. "And he is very worried about Hem, but he thinks we can help."

"He kept the crow?" Malgorn asked incredulously. "Of all his past life, _he kept the crow_?"

Saliman smiled reminiscently. "Hem and Irc are the closest of friends, Malgorn, and I do not think he would like to be parted from his best friend."

"But this is good, too," Hekibel said encouragingly. "Hem kept Irc, even after he turned to the Dark, he kept Irc, and Maerad wanted Cadvan. A part of them remembers such things as friendship."

"How does he keep Irc?" Saliman asked, unable to help himself.

Cadvan shook his head, thinking of the crow on his golden perch. "In a cage as tall as a man, made completely of gold. There're plenty of glittery things for him to hoard, and he serves him wine and finest cuts of meat."

"I bet he likes that," Saliman laughed unabashedly, and it was so strange, hearing laughter in such an awful, desolate place that all the company took up the laugh For a single moment, the darkness that had so pressed down on them lifted.

"It seems I have no choice," Saliman said after the laughter died. "I will go to Hem, and I will see if there's not something I can do to end this madness. But you must stay by me, Cadvan. I have no love of this place, and I fear that after tomorrow, I will be bitter with it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this came out late. I just started school again so I'm trying to get back into the swing of things here.**

Chapter Five

"We have news Nerili," said Elenxi. "Some of our scouts have returned from Annar, and they bring grim tidings."

"I expected nothing less," Nerili said sadly, studying a map of Annar and the seven kingdoms. She traced a few roads with her fingers, her face set in grim concentration. When she looked up, Elenxi was still there, watching her carefully. "Call a council, and summon the Steward. He should be here to hear this."

Elenxi bowed his head and left. Nerili waited for him to go before crossing the room to the divan that stood before an open window and tossed herself down on it. She rolled over so her face was turned to the window and looked out over the city, cut into the craggy face of Thorold, down to the harbor, bustling with life, and then to the ocean, and even beyond that. She wished she could see to Annar, to the cities ravaged by war, to the Schools that were rumored to have fallen. To her friend Cadvan and his sweet and extraordinary student, Maerad. She had heard nothing but rumors and had received no word from the Schools, and so, she had set to defending her beloved island, but her heart was heavy. Whispers had reached Busk, and they carried awful tidings: the fall of Turbansk, Baladh, Car Amdridh, and the Suderain had worried her, but there was more. It was said that the army of the Nameless had marched from the south and lain siege to Eleve, Innail, Lirigon, and that Enkir had mobilized an army and had marched south, slaughtering all in his path.

_We have had no word yet that all this is true, _she reminded herself, staring up at the ceiling. _It could be that these are rumors gone mad. Bards talk. Gossip. Things are said that are not _all _true._

Still, it wasn't very comforting that the most Nerili could say for these rumors was that they weren't _all _true. She recalled Cadvan's warning that a darkness was coming, and that they would be hard put to ride it out. There was a pang in her heart as she thought of him: she always worried for Cadvan. Even after they had gone their separate ways, after he had run off to serve the Light, she worried for him. He walked dangerous roads, none more so than now, now that he had Maerad in his charge. She loved him dearly, like a friend, and feared that perhaps even he could not escape the shadow.

_Perhaps you should worry more about yourself for the moment_, a small voice whispered in her mind. _A war council is being summoned and you must be present for it. You must be ready._

Nerili closed her eyes; she wanted sleep so badly. It had evaded her the last two nights, and now, even as she rested on the very precipice of exhaustion, she couldn't sleep. Her heart was beating feverishly, and she knew it was that terrible mixture of nervousness and adrenalin that kept her awake. Resignedly, she sat up, reached over to the small side table, and poured herself a measure of dark, red wine. It was strong enough to wake her mind completely and ward off the threat of weariness.

She slipped slowly, considering what now lay before her. She was positive that whatever news the messenger had returned with, it would only be bad for Thorold. She knew, though, that Maerad and Cadvan had gone seeking the Tree Song, and that maybe there was still hope their quest could be fulfilled. She had spoken to the very few refugees who had escaped Annar, and they all agreed that some malignant will was now giving strength to the Nameless One and it was this that allowed him swift, decisive victories. There had been maybe thirty refugees who had managed to reach Thorold, and Nerili had found them at once.

"Any news of the Dark Army?" she would ask. "Any news of the Nameless One?"

And always, the same response: "Something moves in the Dark, milady. Some force lends its will to his and he moves in the open now. His armies have burned cities, razed villages, and there is no one with the strength now to oppose him."

_Whatever this new threat is, perhaps Maerad's Gift will destroy it._

"Nerili." Elenxi had returned. "We're ready for you now."

Nerili drained the rest of her wine, stood and straightened her back, and followed Elenxi to the council. Both circles were present, along with the Steward and his council. When she entered, they all rose in bowed, but she quickly waved aside the formalities.

"I hardly doubt any of you have not noticed the men and women, coming to our land, seeking refuge from war in Annar and seven kingdoms?" she began without preamble. "They came with dark tidings of a great army and the Nameless One and the fall of the Light." There was scattered mumbling, but most were still watching Nerili. "I sent forth five scouts who might travel unseen and they have returned now to tell us the lay of land."

"We know there is war," said a female Bard sharply, standing up and looking around the table. "We know there has been open war these past six months, and we have been preparing since Midsmmer and Enkir's edict for an attack. I don't know what these scouts can tell us that we have not already planned for."

Elenxi eyed the woman with dislike, but Nerili seemed unperturbed. "I have personally spoken with all the refugees, and they all spoke of some great malice which now serves the Nameless One, and who had given him the power to march through Annar unchecked. It worried me that some power might ally itself with our greatest enemy."

She turned to face the table. "It is true, we have been preparing for war, but what type of war do we now face? The Nameless One alone, or aided by some fell sorcery? I fear that the Dark has some power we do not understand, and that something comes our way we have not yet faced."

"Then call the scouts," said the Steward seriously. He had never had reason not to trust Nerili, and respected her most among the Bards. Her fear worried him.

Nerili bowed and summoned the captain of the five scouts who had compiled all their accounts. His name was Mercen, and his face was grim. He bowed respectfully to the council and looked to Nerili for her word.

"Please, tell us what you have seen," she said graciously, sitting down.

Mercen clasped his hands to still their shaking. "Darkness covers Annar. We left Busk and arrived by boat in Il Arunedh as the Dark Army marched on it. We met with the First Bard there, and he told us that the Suderain had fallen, and that the Nameless One's forces marched north. From the north come Enkir's forces, and they will meet with the Nameless One, and so devour the land." He paused and saw that many looked on, their faces blank. He realized that what he had seen, the torment of the land and the people must be explained. Justice must be done.

"The Schools have been razed! Wherever the Dark Army marches, they offer the people of the cities a mercy: surrender the Bards and go unharmed. If the Bards go willingly, the cities are spared, if they fight, they are all slaughtered. The Bards are taken to Den Raven, to be made slaves to the Nameless One, and the people are left with Hulls, who act as petty tyrants of their own kingdoms.

"In Den Raven, the Minor Bards are taken to new schools, and they are taught the new laws of the land. The laws devised by the Nameless One. Any adult is made a slave in Dagra, and they serve his army building, arming, spelling, or feeding his troops. Any Bard who has not sworn fealty to the Nameless One is wanted for treason."

Silence greeted the man's words, and the council looked to Nerili, who clasped her hands tightly. "Is there no resistance? What of Maerad of Pellinor?"

Mercen bowed his head. "She is fallen to the Dark," he croaked.

"Dead?" Elenxi rasped, reflecting the sentiments of everyone at the table. They had all met her, and they had all sworn to protect her against Enkir when she had last come to their island.

"No, she isn't dead," Mercen croaked. He reached into his pocket and removed a piece of parchment, torn and battered, but bearing an official seal of Den Raven. He gave it to Nerili whose face paled as if she were ill. Her hand shaking, Nerili passed it around the table and deadening silence descended on the table.

"Are you certain of this?" Elenxi asked in a tremulous voice.

"We traveled even as far as Innail. And they all say that she now serves the Nameless One. They say she has been bewitched by some powerful spell of the Nameless One's own design, and that he holds her prisoner in the fastness of the Iron Tower."

"It is her Gift," Nerili murmured. She looked up at the table and assembly and said louder, "Every refugee who came here spoke of some power, some force of will that drove the war machines of the Nameless. I think He has found a way to use Maerad's Gift to serve his own dark purpose."

"If that's true, it is dark news indeed," the Steward said. "What do you propose we do, Nerili?"

She bowed her head in thought. "Mercen, are the armies of the Nameless One coming toward Thorold?"

"I'm afraid so, milady," he said. "This very month, as is."

"It is as I feared," Nerili whispered. She clasped her hands tightly until the fingers turned white. "We will need to fortify our forces."

"For the last six months-"

"I know," said Nerili sharply, eyeing the Bard who had spoken with a hard look. "We have been building our food supplies for months, we have been preparing the island for war, and we have alerted all the cities and villages to attack; however, I think we must consider that the army that marches on us is more powerful than we thought."

"How do you mean?" the Steward asked.

"Through all the Silence, Turbansk never fell," Nerili said practically. "But we have word now that is has. They have all fallen. Whatever comes toward us now is something we have not encountered."

"Cadvan suspected that Maerad's Gift was of unimaginable strength," Elenxi mused. "He said she could communicate with the Elementals. Is it possible she calls up the Elidhu at the Nameless One's command?"

"War against the Elementals?" asked a Bard, horrified. "Certainly it won't be?"

"We have no way of knowing," Elenxi said. "I take it no word escapes the Iron Tower?" His eyes landed on Mercen, who was looking shocked at the turn of the conversation.

"None of the scouts could infiltrate Dagra," he confirmed. "We had barely entered the Suderain when we were met with blockades and soldiers. The word throughout the land is that Maerad serves the Nameless One, and their forces combined have conquered Annar and will soon claim the seven kingdoms."

Elenxi saw that Nerili looked deeply troubled and said quickly, "We must consider evacuating the coastal cities here. We should gather our forces here, defend ourselves better, be ready for an attack."

"You think we should evacuate _all_ of them?" the Steward asked, his eyebrows raised.

"We have no idea where the Nameless One will attack. We should bring as many people as we can to Busk, strengthen our defenses and forces, and prepare for a long lying-in. If we evacuate the others we can raze the cities ourselves, take away any possible advantages the Dark Army might have. They will look for food and weapons in our cities, and if we take them with us, it might give us a slight advantage. These soldiers will have to sail to our island, they will have to bring with them whatever rations and weapons they need; there will be a finite amount of supplies they can bring."

"But, raze our own cities?" one said.

"I would rather see them reduced to ashes than aiding the Nameless One in his conquest," Elenxi said firmly. "Nerili?"

She flicked her eyes his way. "We can assume that the hammer will fall hardest here, at Busk, and that we will need the most soldiers here. However, I do not want to abandon the other coastal cities to attack. I think you are right, Elenxi, we need to bring those people here. I do not want to leave them open to attack."

"I'll send word immediately," Elenxi said. "We can only hope for a month to vacate the cities. So we have enough room to house these people? Are our food stores deep enough?"

"We'll have to ration carefully once the war begins," the Steward said, "and we might consider quartering the refugees from other cities in the School itself."

Nerili tipped her head in assent. "We will make room for them."

"And what if Maerad has summoned Elementals for the Nameless?" asked another Bard. "What if we are faced with a force we can't fight?"

"Perhaps there is hope," said one Bard. "I heard, months ago, of a story of a Bard in Innail who fought an Elemental. They call her the Maid of Innail-"

"That was Maerad of Pellinor," said Mercen swiftly, his face drawn. "She was defending Innail against the Landrost."

"Then we will be forced to face the wrath of the Nameless One and whatever powers he can summon on our own," Nerili said gravely. She saw the others watching her closely and lifted her chin proudly. "Have faith, my friends, not all hope is lost. We will meet this darkness; we will not be cowed by fear or by malice." Her eyes flashed like lightening over the sea in a storm. "And if this is to be the last stand of Thorold, it will be such a stand that the Nameless One will never forget. History will remember us as the men and women who fought to the last; it will remember our island and our passion and our bravery!"

As before, the council ended in cheers and clapping, with the cry of "To Thorold!" on the lips of every member. Nerili bowed to the many members and she and Elenxi left the room, their heads bowed in conversation.

"Send the birds now," Nerili said softly. "A month is generous, too generous, if you ask me. We should have the cities emptied and here in three weeks, no more. Can we do it?"

Elenxi hesitated. "We'll be hard put to it."

"Do we have a choice?" she countered, a bitter smile on her face.

"Point well taken," Elenxi said, his face mirroring her. "I'll be on my way, Neri."

She watched him go, her mouth set in a thin line; Nerili knew only too well that their chances were slim. Her steps meandered away from the council chamber and out into the School. She passed by the gorgeous tiled buildings, the paved porches, shadowed by lattices. There was a desperate beauty in the flowers that crawled up the lattices, houses, trees, and over the small paths; it was as if the island knew it was perched on the cusp of destruction and was throwing forth its own weapons, its vibrant vitality. Nerili smiled faintly when she saw a few children race past, the bright hues of their clothes catching the sun's light, but her face fell at the thought of what was coming.

_My island, my home. _She worried her lip and hurried by.

Back in her room, she collapsed on the day bed again and covered her face with her hands. There was a darkness approaching them that they were not prepared for, a darkness they could not run from. She saw her beautiful island in ruins before her eyes, its people slaughtered, its water red, and she shuddered. Where would she go if not Thorold? She was born here, she had been raised here; Thorold was in her blood, it sang through her veins. She knew if she were taken from the island, a part of her-a great part of her-would die.

* * *

"I want the army fully armed and provisioned and ready to sail in two weeks time."

Enkir flicked his eyes up but then dropped them just as quickly. He was not comfortable in the presence of the Nameless One, not entirely, anyway. There was something in his voice, so sweetly painful, so desperately lonely, that the hair on the back of Enkir's neck stood up. He _wanted_ to feel sympathy for the creature before him, but a greater part of him was appalled by the void of life he sensed. Enkir didn't think that the Nameless One was alive in any sense, he didn't have _eternal life_, he simply lacked life, and because he was not alive, he could not die. Everything human about Enkir was repulsed.

"I've set a number of Bards to the forges and they're turning out weapons around the clock," said Enkir, lifting his chin just a little. "I have also ordered many of the finest spell weavers to cast charms on all the weapons."

"And do you think that wise?"

This time, Enkir flashed a furious look from under his eyelids; no one would have seen it unless they cared to look. "Yes, Maerad, I can hardly think of a better way to use their powers than have them charming our weapons."

Maerad was seated to the right of the Nameless One, leaning forward ever so slightly, politely curious. "The effort involved of casting so many charms could result in the death of many Bards, and we don't have an infinite supply of those."

Enkir ground his teeth together, but managed to lift his lips into a smile. "It is a sacrifice we should make, and we will be repaid in full when we take Thorold. Besides, there are plenty of Minor Bards who will soon come into their own, and they will, undoubtedly, seek to make families of their own."

Maerad smiled, her teeth flashing white in the gloom of the room. "There is no guarantee those Bards will take the Oath of Succession, and they may go to join their fellows in the Barracks. If that is the case, we will, indeed, have a finite number of Bards."

Enkir glanced to the Nameless One, but he made no move to intervene, so he was forced to tip his head in polite agreement. "What would you have instead?"

"What would I have?" Maerad asked, one eyebrow raised, her eyes gleaming pitilessly. "I would think it should be obvious, no?" When Enkir continued to look politely interested, Maerad laughed sweetly, belying her malice. "We ought to send loyal Bards with the army to supplement the Hulls; both will be able to weave charms for the army once they arrive at Thorold. The charms they weave now must be stronger and more durable since the weapons are going to be transported many miles. Besides, having Bards there will enable our forces to use both White and Black Fire."

"Sending Bards to fight Bards?" Enkir asked skeptically. "They might balk-"

"Then they will die," Maerad answered swiftly. "If they have a problem following the orders they're given, then we don't need them. I won't have an army driven by anything less than full-hearted passion. It is not fear that drives a victory, it is belief. I will have no half measures."

Enkir dragged his gaze away from Maerad to the young man seated beside her. Cai was just as vocal as his sister, but there wasn't the accusatory light in his eyes. "It is not half measures I give, simply a suggestion of strategy."

"A poor one," Maerad finished. She turned her face ever so slightly to the Nameless One. "I believe we are right to continue with the forging of weapons, but we should take a care to send Bards along with them. I think, also, that we will need to charm many of our boats and prepare them for the full force of a sea battle from Busk."

The Nameless One was quiet a long moment, and closed his eyes, considering the plans laid before him. Enkir was older, more worldly certainly, but Maerad had been to Busk, she had been in the very heart of the First Circle. "You believe the First Circle will have a sea force that can reckon ours?"

Maerad drew a deep breath, feeling victory in her grasp. "I would be surprised if they aren't even now planning a defense. They are a passionate people, as I've told you, and they will not be cowed by our forces. Though we will defeat them, they will take many of our soldiers first and we will have to take the fight to land. They will meet us there as well, and so we should be doubly ready: a battle at sea and a battle on land."

"We should raid the island coasts," Enkir put in.

"No," Maerad said sharply, turning on him a politely condescending look. There was something pitiful in her look that worried Enkir, and he swallowed. "They will hide in the mountains with their food stores; Nerili told me this when I was there. They will burn their own land, as it was in the Suderain, and our soldiers will tire trying to cross the mountain range." She now turned completely to face the Nameless One, leaving Enkir to watch. "We must strike Busk, even if we risk a bloody sea battle. I am sure they will assemble their most powerful forces at the School."

"And of the power of the Mountain?" the Nameless One asked, thinking of a time, over a thousand years ago when an entire fleet of his men has simply vanished in a fog.

Maerad's smile was feral. "I will be with our soldiers, and I will send forth my will to defend them as they approach the island. There is no Elemental now that may challenge me." She shot a warm smile to her brother, whose expression softened. "We will have victory over Thorold."

The Nameless One seemed pleased with this and tipped his head in ascent to Maerad. "We sail directly for Busk, Enkir, and you will enlist your loyal Bards to accompany the Hulls."

"Yes, my lord," he said, keeping his eyes off Maerad's perfectly smug face. "And of the weapon charming?"

"Do not waste time or energy with it," Maerad said decidedly. "Put the slaves to use forging the weapons us. If anything, have them charm the boats for the voyage itself."

Enkire bristled at being ordered to anything by a woman, but managed a stilted half-bow before leaving the room. Maerad waited until the doors had closed and she could sense his mind drifting farther and farther away. She leaned back in her seat, clasping her hands tightly.

"We should kill him, my lord," she said confidentially, gesturing Hem nearer. "He is unsatisfied with his lot in life, and he will rise against us."

"Enkir is nothing," the Nameless One said carelessly. "When all is said and done, I will tuck him away somewhere where he can be lord of his own little land."

"Alone, he is nothing but an old man, but…he is not alone," said Hem, looking worriedly at the door where Enkir had just vanished. "He has the loyalty of the free Bards; they only join our cause because he has. If Enkir turns against us, they will."

"They are Bards," said the Nameless One dismissively.

"They are few," Maerad said softly, "but they can incite rebellion in the slaves. They have the freedom and the prowess to free the slaves and raise an army."

The Nameless One met Maerad's stern gaze and smiled pacifically. "You are not happy," he said, watching her face closely. "I can't have that. What would you have me, my lady?"

Maerad's face was even as she said, "We need to kill him. Enkir will only help us so long as he needs us. As soon as we have secured the borders he will rise against us."

The Nameless One raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. "Is that the only reason you want Enkir dead?"

This time, it was Hem who spoke, and his voice was as cold as Maerad's. It was surprising to even his sister, who had always considered Hem even-tempered and well-mannered. "He _murdered _our family. My father was cut down in battle because he betrayed our people to his selfishness. He broke my mother's mind and enslaved her and my sister. He burned our home. He took my childhood from me." Hem was shaking, his eyes dark. "I want him dead because I do not trust him to serve us, and because you promised us a world of our choosing, and this is my choosing."

The Nameless One admired the boy, admired his anger. "Your passion is admirable, Cai."

"It is not my passion," Hem said snidely. "I hate him, and I would see him ruined."

Maerad took Hem's hand. "My brother is right. He isn't trustworthy. He is going to betray us as soon as he is sure of himself."

"We can destroy him if he so much as raises his eyebrows at us," the Nameless One said, smiling kindly at the brother and sister. "Wouldn't you rather watch him suffer as he is? Aren't you enjoying his servitude to you?"

"His bitterness will only feed his appetite for revenge," observed Maerad, thinking of the looks he turned on her during their meeting. "While I enjoy him as he is, he will seek vengeance."

"Then you will destroy him," the Nameless One said.

Maerad flushed, annoyed at his dismissal. "I won't have him around me," she warned.

"When our campaign is over, you can send him to some small, remote School where he can be first Bard. You won't hear from him again. He will be gone, insubstantial-"

"I want him ruined!" Maerad hissed, slamming her hand on the table. "As he ruined my family, as he ruined my home, as he ruined my _life_! He made me a slave and he made my brother an orphan. Our lives have been haunted by his betrayal and I will not rest until he is dead."

"Would it not be better to let him live out the rest of his life with the knowledge that he has lost to you?" The Nameless One was trying to exert the full force of his beguiling voice on Maerad, but she wouldn't be swayed.

"I want him dead," she said with iron in her voice. "And did you not promise me what I want?"

"I would give you anything. Both of you." His eyes, smoldering with emotion, seemed to pierce into their souls. He held his hands out before him, palms up and open, as if he might offer them all the world. "I just want you both to be happy, and I think you might find happiness somewhere else."

"But Enkir deserves to be punished," Hem pushed.

"And yet you are content, no?" he looked to Maerad now, hoping to coax her into a sense of peace. "I have given you everything you want, yes? Your rooms are as you desired them? The garden?"

Maerad set her teeth into a grim line. "This is true."

"And your friends? Did you not ask me for the Bard, Cadvan of Lirigon?" He raised an eyebrow at her and she tipped her head in ascent. "I have allowed him freedom from the other slaves, allowed him to come to your rooms because you have expressed a deep desire to see him. Cadvan of Lirigon has challenged my authority and sought to undo me, and yet I allow him to visit you because he makes you happy and because he protected you for the many months before you came to join me."

"Yes, my lord," she said stiltedly, but her hands were clamped in fists.

"And have I not given you free reign over these lands and these people?" He looked at her earnestly, searching her face. "Have I not made you queen? My most trusted advisor? My lieutenant?"

"Yes, yes, you have given me these things, but you promised me everything," Maerad rejoined, and she lifted her chin proudly. "I won't have everything until I have my revenge."

The Nameless One turned his charm now on Hem, who he knew was the only one with any control over Maerad's temper. "And you, Cai, are you not happy? Is Irc not pleased? Have I ever denied you anything?"

Hem felt the tug of the Nameless One's will, but his sister's hand in his grasp was much more demanding. "I am most satisfied with my lot in life, but I am not satisfied with my past, and I would have it all."

"Perhaps you would think on it, yes?" he offered instead. "This campaign is far from over, and we will still have need of him until then. I have a proposition: allow him to live until the war is ended and we have won, after that, after you have time to assess his loyalty, then I will allow you to pass judgment on him."

"Whatever our judgment?" Maerad asked severely.

"Be it life or death, it is yours," the Nameless One said sweetly. "Would that not please you?"

Hem and Maerad shared a look and then nodded in agreement. Maerad said, "He must answer for his crimes."

"And he will," agreed the Nameless One, eyes glowing. Maerad sniffed, drumming her fingers on the table, still looking displeased, and the Nameless One perceived this and said, "And yet, you are still not satisfied. What more can I do to please you, Mistress Maerad? Cai?"

"Cadvan," said Maerad suddenly, grasping at her chance. "I would like for him to be my tutor as he once was."

"You powers have far surpassed his," the Nameless One said emotionlessly. "There is nothing he can teach you."

"To read and write, I mean," she rejoined. "I have barely mastered three of the languages, and there are so many more. I would be…_content_ if Cadvan were my tutor again."

The Nameless One surveyed Maerad's face, the set of her jaw, the determined glint in her eye. He knew he could master her temper by his will alone, but her desires, her longing for friends and family, these were borne of her heart, and he had yet to conquer that. For now, it was easier to allow her dalliances.

"I don't see why not," he said indifferently. "But you are to make quite clear to him that he is there to serve only as a language master and nothing more. He is still a slave. He is still a traitor to my power."

"I don't let him forget," Maerad said suddenly, and a shadow seemed to fall over her face. "He betrayed me as well, my lord, and though I love him dearly, I am hurt."

The Nameless One took her hand in his as if he would comfort her. "He has hurt you, my dear one, and he will be made to understand this."

"He is my dearest friend," Maerad murmured, staring at her hand, clasped in the hand of the Nameless One. "I want him with me in our new world."

"Then you'll have him," the Nameless One rejoined. "He is a slave, something you own. You can do with him as you wish." This made Maerad smile, and she turned her bright look up on him, and it was as if all their argument over Enkir was forgotten.

"You are a just king, my lord," she said, beaming. "And I am happy now."

"As you should be. You are queen of this new world, a glorious queen of creation," he said heartily, and then turned to Hem. "And you, Cai, what can I give you to make you happy?"

"Saliman," he said with a certain degree of dignity. "Maerad has her old mentor back, and I want mine."

"Then you'll have him," the Nameless One said seriously. "They shall both be brought to you daily for your lessons. I take it, that would please you?"

"We'd both appreciate it," Hem answered for himself and his sister, standing up and making a bow. Maerad followed him, curtsied gracefully, and allow the Nameless One to bow his head in return.

Hem and Maerad left, their heads close together, their shoulders bumping into one and other, and the Nameless One watched, discontented. He needed them, he needed the Song, but it was costing him to keep them now. Certainly he could distract them, and he employed a great deal of his charm to that, but a small part of both of them was beyond his reach.

_Their minds are mine, certainly, but their hearts…I need their hearts as well._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Saliman marched along beside Hekibel, watching her carefully from the side. Even here, trapped in the Barracks, she seemed to exude some force of life, a faint light, and wanted to laugh to himself. Of course Hekibel would be unfazed by the harshness of the land around her, she was made of much sterner stuff than she seemed. The glare of the rising sun might have beat her down, and the dry, dusty wind might have rubbed her face raw, but she was just as vital as before. As if sensing his eyes on her, Hekibel slid a sideways smile his way.

"You make me nervous, Saliman, when you keep watching me," she said lightly, and then smiled shyly. "What are you worrying about?"

He smiled tiredly. "You worry me," he admitted. "You don't belong in this place, and it scares me to see you here."

She tried to laugh it off. "You see me here every day, Saliman."

"I do," he agreed, and then reached out and took her hand, "but that doesn't make the situation sit any better with me. You don't deserve to be here; you should be in a city with a house and a family and not have to struggle like this. You shouldn't be a slave."

Hekibel glanced around her, her eyes resting on the shacks and the dirt and the worn faces of her fellow slaves. She knew a part of her longed for the fresh air and to be free of the oppressive nature of the Hulls. Hekibel would be the first to admit she was afraid of the Dark, but she had long since signed away all that to stay with Saliman. "I would rather be here with you than alone in that house in the city."

Saliman caught her eyes and held her gaze, measuring the depth of her words. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

"Why?" she asked, and he saw a flicker on uncertainty pass over her face.

His teeth flashed white in the dull light of morning. "I always think of trying to convince you to go, I always want to find a way to send you away from here, but you say things like this and I can't imagine not seeing you again."

"Well, I suppose that's fortunate, since you _can't_ send me away," Hekibel answered smartly, and lifted her chin stubbornly. "It seems you'll just be stuck with me here."

Saliman tightened his grip on her hand more and had to suppress an urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her. "I suppose I will, and I will do so gladly."

She would have remained longer in his grasp, but they had reached the end of the Barracks, and were about to be sent to their daily stations. Hekibel wasn't fool enough to think she would be going with Saliman, and drifted away from him, toward the Hull's home where she would be cleaning, serving, and running errands for their masters. Saliman watched her go with regret and faintly wondered if he could convince Hem she ought to be placed somewhere else, but this just brought to mind that he would soon be seeing Hem, and it worried him evermore.

_Is Hem just like Maerad? Is he just as empty and cold? _Saliman tried to picture a Hem who wasn't passionate, who wasn't innocent, who wasn't as cunning and brave as his crow, but he just couldn't. It hurt to try and see him any other way than those last moments before he and Maerad had stolen the Song: nervous, scared even, but determined to see this journey to the end.

Saliman fell into line behind Malgorn, who was sent off to deal with sick beasts in the neighboring farm land, and he found himself being inspected by a smug looking half wit, who, after a few minutes of staring at the number on his arm, pulled him aside. He was relieved when he saw Cadvan, slouched against a wall, staring mutinously at the Hull guarding him.

"The other one, my lord," said the man, giving Saliman a shove for good measure. The Hull flicked his dead gaze over Saliman and nodded and the man left.

"Follow me," it said listlessly. "I suggest you do as you're told and do not attempt to escape. You won't get very far, and the consequences are dire." It smiled toothily before leading them away.

Saliman didn't care, not when he was about to be free of the rank depression that hung over the Barracks like a curse. True, he was being taken to the Iron Tower, and true, he was still very much a prisoner, but there was some small hope that seeing Hem brought. He glanced sideways at Cadvan, who looked drawn and he suspected seeing Maerad pained him more than he admitted.

They made good time, up through the city, into the Iron Tower, and to Maerad and Hem's lavish living quarters. Saliman felt ill, as if the very will of the Nameless One was pressing down on him, trying to break his mind, and he strained against it. Cadvan must have had more experience with the pressure, because his back remained straight and his face blank, but Saliman saw the strain in his shoulders.

The Hull knocked on the door and it was opened by two guards standing sentry. They both examined the Bards, taking in the state of their clothing and injuries, and then waved them through. Saliman braced himself and followed closely behind Cadvan. The room was as it had been before when Cadvan had last visited, with the doors open to let in the early morning sun in, the scent of heady flowers hanging in the air, and a table set on the patio with steaming breakfast. Saliman looked around, stunned by the glorious proportions of the room.

"Do they both live here?" Saliman asked, looking between the many doors that led from the main chamber.

"No, this is Maerad's room. Hem is right next door, but Maerad has the entrance to the garden, so he visits often." Cadvan took a seat on one of the many squashy arm chairs and glanced about. "I thought they might be here, though, given that they called for us."

"Busy, I suppose," Saliman said, and took a seat beside Cadvan.

It had been many months since he had seen rooms so grand, and it took him a moment to adjust. Saliman sank into the chair beneath him, marveling at the feeling, and studied the artistic designs stenciled on the wall, the paintings, the door that revealed a peek of the library, the thick rugs, the unsullied sunlight streaming into the room.

"This place reminds me of a School."

Cadvan peered closely at his friend. "That's what I thought at first, but…" The sound of approaching footsteps drew him up short. "Not anymore."

Maerad entered her room imperiously, Hem at her side, looking excited. His eyes found Saliman and Cadvan, lounging on the chairs and a smile lit his face. From a distance he seemed very much like Hem, but he rushed forward, and Saliman felt something sick unfurl in his stomach. It wasn't so much that Hem's appearance had changed-though it had, rather markedly-it was that something about his light seemed to have changed. It was darker, meaner, colder.

"Saliman," he said brightly, taking him in a warm embrace. "I've missed you, old friend."

After his initial shock at Hem's change, he was taken again by how much the boy seemed to have grown. He was as tall as Saliman now, with a mop of thick dark hair that had been washed and brushed to a shine. He was wider in the chest, his body growing up nicely, and his voice was lower. There was a bit of stubble on his chin that hadn't been there before, and he held himself with the growing confidence of a young man who was coming into his power. There was no doubt he would be a handsome, powerful Bard.

"You've grown, Hem," he said simply, looking into his dark eyes.

Hem chuckled good-naturedly. "You seem much the same. Perhaps a bit worse for wear, but we'll fix that with a bit of time and a few good meals."

Saliman glanced at Cadvan to see how he took the dismissal of his suffering, but Cadvan's face was carefully blank. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't hungry."

"Then come and eat. We've called for a large breakfast," Hem said graciously, and nodded toward the open doors and the table outside. In the distance, Saliman heard a squawk and smiled knowingly at Hem. "Irc wanted to see you too."

"I've missed that crow," he said, and headed toward the food and crow.

Outside on the patio, Maerad and Hem served them both, while Irc landed on Saliman's arm rest and pecked his hand gently. Saliman smiled down at him. _Well met, Irc. I've missed you._

_I missed you, _Irc said, blinking his red eyes slowly at him. _Will you make my friend better? His brain is twisted._

Saliman ran one finger down his beak and the crow cried at him. _I'm going to try, Irc, but there is a lot of Dark magic here. It will be hard. He is far away from me._

_He is far from me, too, _Irc said, and there were depths of sadness in his voice that Saliman had never heard._ He's so far that no matter how far I fly, I can't reach him._

_We'll do what we can. _Saliman held out his wrist so Irc could step down and he lowered the bird to the table where he could peck at the breakfast. _For now, perhaps just being around him will help. Will you do that, Irc? Will you stay with him no matter where he goes? It would be a brave thing._

Irc puffed up his chest feathers proudly. _It doesn't matter that it's a brave thing. He is my friend. _

Saliman held out a piece of toast. _I always knew there was more to you than gold and pride, _he chuckled.

Saliman's conversation with the crow had gone mostly unnoticed because Cadvan had been speaking to Maerad and Hem. His face was the same inscrutable expression, but Saliman could tell he was struggling with what was being said.

"…arrive in Thorold soon. Our men leave within the week," Maerad was saying.

"It should be over quickly," Hem added. "We think the Bards will surrender rather than watch the people suffer. It's the smartest choice."

Cadvan sipped a glass of water. "It seems a bit…harsh, think you not? Thorold was very good to us Maerad when we were fleeing Enkir."

Maerad smiled viciously. "Speaking of Enkir," she said with a sly laugh, "you should have seen him the other day at the war council. He's furious Hem and I are the favorites, and that our opinion matters more to the Lord of Light than his."

Hem chuckled. "Not that it'll matter how he feels soon."

Maerad and Hem shared a secret look and Cadvan glanced between the two. "Then you have faith the people of Thorold will be spared?"

"Perhaps," shrugged Maerad. "The Bards will certainly be brought back, and it's possible that the people will be allowed to live, though I doubt they will be allowed to stay on the island. The Lord of Light doesn't trust them."

"You're going to have them brought back to Annar?" Saliman asked sharply. "Where will they go? The cities aren't fit to hold more people."

"The cities will house them if they're told," said Maerad firmly, looking unkindly at Saliman.

Hem, though, smiled softly at the Bard and said, "It's not that their lives will be completely destroyed, but it will be better for us all if they live on the mainland. Part of what allowed Thorold its independence was its isolation. The Lord of Light just wants to make sure the people are loyal to him. They will be given homes and jobs. They will not suffer for it."

"Where?" Saliman asked curiously.

"Perhaps here," Hem said. "The lands of Den Raven have been undergoing quite a change. Many of the Bards have been healing the land, making room for crops to grow. They could make their way here."

"It would be a hard life," Saliman said uncertainly.

"I saw this land," Hem said distantly, his eyes far away, "before fear and anger and darkness consumed it. I saw life, I saw beauty, I saw an endless forest, its lands bathed in emerald light. This place was once one of the Light. I want to see that again."

Cadvan smiled sadly at the boy. "It will be a long while before the land heals."

Hem shrugged. "We have eternity."

The statement didn't sit well with Cadvan and Saliman, who wondered worriedly if they really did have all eternity now that the Song was alive in them. "It's still a long time to wait," Saliman said lightly, grinning mischievously. "How will you fill your time while the grass grows?"

"You will fill it for me," Hem returned with the same impish grin, but there was something feral about. It lacked the carelessness of Saliman's joke, but made up for it was a measure of malice. It almost made him look mad.

"Forgive me," Saliman said, bowing low over the table. "I'm afraid if you intend for me to entertain you forever, we will come to an impasse. I'm older than I look."

"If you are going to fear death," said Maerad, bored, "you might as well fear it for an _actual _reason."

"Whatever do you mean, Maerad?" Cadvan asked, keeping his voice level and his face interested.

"I _mean_," she said a flash of annoyance, "that life is what you make of it. Or, rather, what _we _make of it." She gestured to her brother. "I know the secrets of the very birth of life. Do you think I would let my friends die?"

_She's gone mad, _Cadvan thought, his sense of morality rebelling. _She's gone mad if she thinks I'll let her do that. _Saliman must have thought something similar because his face was tight with worry.

Cadvan, however, reached out and clamped her wrist in his hand, giving her a gentle squeeze. "You honor us, but I don't think Saliman or I want eternal life. I can't even imagine how tired I'd be."

Hem and Maerad tittered with laughter. "It's not about what you want. It's about what we want," Maerad answered simply and placed her other hand over his. "And speaking of things we want, Hem and I spoke to the Lord of Light and he has agreed to allow both of your to take back up your position of tutors. You'll be allowed back here most days, and you can complete our studies of languages and history and such."

"We're grateful-"

"Don't say that Saliman," Maerad said irritably. "Every time one of you starts a sentence with that it always ends with you explaining that you can't possibly do as I ask. Just do as you're told."

"We belong in the Barracks," Cadvan began.

"I will send word along and change that."

Cadvan stood up suddenly, lifting his shirt to reveal his bruised ribs. "They knew and they still sought to punish us. The last time I was here and I returned late, the Hulls tore our home apart, and punished _us_."

Maerad's eyes flashed at the ugly purple bruise that disfigured Cadvan's side. "Who did this?" she hissed.

"One of the wardens-"

"Give me their name," she said at once. "I'm not going to allow those fat, lazy wardens to do as they please. Not when it's my things they're doing it to." Her hands were clenched into tight fists and even Hem looked uncharacteristically grim.

"_Things_?" Cadvan asked pointedly, but Maerad seemed beyond him.

She rose up slowly, her face set in an ugly snarl. "Yes, things! Everything you see is mine, everything you hear is mine. Everything is mine. I'm the queen of creation." She was stalking back and forth, a lovely, terrible visage. "I unleashed the Song unto myself and I walked through its marvels, I beheld its secrets, and so, I master them. I make this world to my desire, and everything in it will be as I wish it. And now, some Hull and worthless little man think to flout my authority?"

"Maerad," Cadvan said hurriedly, "I do not think the man meant to mock you."

"I gave a command that you were to go unharmed and he disobeyed it!" she snarled back. "He mocks me in action as well as thought. He seeks to see me made a fool of. I won't have it!" She flashed a look at Hem, and Cadvan and Saliman were startled to see how dark his gaze was.

"He'll have to be punished," Hem said decisively. "Undoubtedly he works for Enkir. All the wardens were brought to us by Enkir. He called them his _most trusted men_."

"Enkir…that _worm_," Maerad said venomously. "This is his doing. He orders his men to defy me so that he might spread discord through our ranks. Did I not say this?"

"We'll have to tell the Lord of Light," Hem agreed seriously. "This is treason."

Maerad clasped her hands together, her face contemplative. "I warned him that Enkir would turn on us, I warned him he would seek to supplant us as soon as the opportunity came. Even now he stretches out his hand and thinks to exert his will over my men."

Maerad spun on Cadvan and he drew a step back. Her body seemed to glow with a strange light, it was fierce and hurt his eyes. He felt a malevolent will reaching out, touching his mind, and he felt ill. He felt sullied. "Tell me his name."

Cadvan clasped the back of his chair. "Illard," he whispered, and he felt light-headed. Something was grasping at his thoughts, trying to drag him down into darkness. "The warden's name is Illard."

"Illard," she spat, and turned away from him. The moment she had stopped looking at him, Cadvan felt a rush of warmth and he slouched uselessly into his chair. "Cadvan, Saliman, stay here. Hem and I must go at once and warn the Lord of Light of this treason. Hem, quickly."

Hem jumped to his feet with not even a parting glance for Saliman. He rushed to his sister's side and the two them dropped into whispered conversation, their heads bent close to each other. They hurried from the room, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Saliman shuddered and dropped his face into his hands.

"They're gone mad," he croaked. "Hem and Maerad have been driven to madness by the Dark."

Cadvan cringed as he recalled the feeling of Maerad's will turned on him. It had been like nothing he had ever known, not even the Landrost. At that moment, there had been nothing of the girl he knew in Maerad; she was a creature of the Dark, consumed by her anger. It was just a void now.

_She's gone. Your Maerad is gone. _Cadvan tried to push away his memories of Maerad from before: her uncertain smile, her nervous laugh, her stubborn pout. _I loved her and she's gone._

"This is the Nameless One's doing," Cadvan hissed, his hands clenched, partly from anger, partly to stop the shaking. "He turned her and Hem into monsters."

"There is still hope, Cadvan," Saliman said, perceiving his friend's despair. "Silvia is right. Clearly, Maerad was upset that you had been hurt-"

"She was upset that Enkir's men had disobeyed her. The fact that it involved me being beaten has little to do with it." Cadvan ran his hand through his tangled hair. "It's ambition, Saliman. She aspires to rule completely, and those who challenge her she will destroy."

The silence that fell over them was ominous. Cadvan and Saliman both knew they opposed her, and they didn't know how long it would be before she destroyed them. At Saliman's side, Irc crooned before taking flight into lazy, watchful circles.

* * *

When Maerad and Hem returned, it was as if nothing had disrupted their day. The brother and sister seemed mightily pleased with themselves, and were talking in whispers when they entered the room. Hem said something that must have amused Maerad because she tossed her head back and laughed.

"You're in fine form," Saliman said guardedly to Hem.

"We just needed a word with the Lord of Light," Hem said, unconcerned with Saliman's worry. "It went far better than expected."

"Indeed?" Cadvan asked.

Maerad offered him her hand and he took it, turning his lips up into a smile. She seemed to twinkle with pleasure when he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow delicately. "The Lord of the Light was not pleased with Enkir's betrayal," she said as she led the four of them into the garden. "So, he is going to send Enkir away."

"Away?" Cadvan asked, shocked.

"I warned him I wouldn't have Enkir around me," said Maerad imperiously. "I wouldn't have a traitor in our midst."

"Where is he going?" Saliman asked curiously.

"With the army along to Thorold," Hem said decidedly. "He's to be charged to bring back the First Bard there. If they don't kill him first, then when he returns, he'll be executed."

"Nerili?" Cadvan asked sharply. "You've sent Enkir to capture Nerili?"

Maerad laughed again. "Is it not a most perfect plan? I admit, I half hope Nerili destroys him, for it would be so fitting for him to be undone by a woman. Especially after what he did to my mother."

Her face darkened momentarily, and Hem caught Cadvan's eye, and said, "He will return, Maerad, and what will be sweeter than when you avenge our mother on him?"

"I suppose so," Maerad murmured, her face thoughtful. "After he tried to have me killed I certainly think it is the least I can do."

Cadvan cleared his throat and asked softly, "You do not think he will kill Nerili?"

The look Maerad turned on Cadvan was far more perceptive than he would have liked. She seemed to see beneath his carefully constructed visage, past his thoughts, and into his heart. Her eyes darted over his face, seeing everything he took so much care to hide. "I would not worry over much about Nerili, Cadvan. She is the First Bard, after all, and the Lord of Light will want to speak with her."

_That might be even worse,_ Cadvan thought. "Will he? I am surprised he has not spoken with Malgorn, to be honest. If he expressed his desire to speak with all the First Bards, offer them a place in his council, why not start with your friend."

Maerad gleamed at him. "Because I told him Malgorn would never agree to serve him, and I'm right, aren't I? If Malgorn won't even consent to my friendship, why would he agree to the Lord of the Light?"

Cadvan thought warily, not wanting to put Malgorn in any danger. "I think he is grateful for your interference, if it's any conciliation. I don't believe Malgorn would have wanted to swear an oath of fealty to…the Lord of Light."

"It's not so much conciliation as an expectation, but at least I spared him any distress." Cadvan could see she found Malgorn's distress amusing, and he wanted to suddenly grab her and shake her. "And tell me, how is his wife, Silvia?"

"Missing you, among other things," said Cadvan darkly.

"I would ask her to come, but I think the Lord of Light has done far too much already in allowing you and Saliman to be here." They had come before the fountain where Maerad had made the bird of water and she paused, watching the water gurgle in the pool. "He has been so gracious to Hem and I, and I would hate to think I'm wearing his patience."

At that moment, the bird she had made fluttered down and landed on the lip of the pool. It opened its beak and began to sing, a haunting melody that sounded like water running over large stones.

"He certainly doesn't think that?" Cadvan asked, feigning his surprise. "I thought he wanted you to be happy."

"He does, and I am," said Maerad stonily. She held out her hand and the water bird alighted there, blinking up at her with its black eyes. "I can have anything I want."

Maerad must have realized the boldness of her statement, given that the bird she had created by her will and power alone was looking up at her, but Cadvan chose to ignore it as he usually did. "Then perhaps you can visit her?"

Maerad's face was the picture of revulsion. "And go down to the Barracks among the people who hate me? I think not, Cadvan. No, I shall have what I want brought to me and have done with it." She shook her wrist and the bird took flight, landing on a tree branch near a beautiful ruby-chested humming bird. "Come, let's return to my room and my lessons."

As Cadvan and Maerad left the garden, Saliman and Hem settled on a bench, companionably silent. Saliman was somewhat lost to his wonder at the beauty of the garden, for he had never thought to look on something so lovely and so reminiscent of home again. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of a breeze in the trees and the murmuring of water, and he tried to savor this moment, for he didn't know when he might return.

"I missed you, Saliman," Hem said gently, sensing the older Bard's serenity.

Saliman breathed deeply before turning his gaze upon his young student. "I missed you Hem. Of all my friends I've had my many years, you are surely one of the dearest. I will admit, I feared for you when I saw you taken to the Iron Tower. I feared I would not see you again or that the Nameless One would hurt you."

"You shouldn't have," Hem said, and, unlike Maerad, he didn't seem annoyed that Saliman had referred to Sharma by his given title. "I had Maerad with me, didn't I? And she would always protect me."

"Ah, but who protects her?" Saliman asked wryly, earning a charming smile from the boy.

Hem glanced in the direction Maerad had gone with Cadvan. "No one protects her, because she needs no protection. She is come fully into her powers, and no one has the might to challenge her. Her only enemy is herself, I think."

"How do you mean?" Saliman asked.

"I think she has never before been given the chance to ask herself, 'what is it _I_ want?' and the idea of such freedom frightens her as much as it excites her." Hem thought of his sister, her anxious face when she considered their friends, her determined scowl when she saw something just out of reach. "Nothing will check her power but her own self-doubt."

"Do you know what Maerad wants?" Saliman asked nonchalantly. "I'm sure we would do all in our power to help her."

"She doesn't know what she wants, I think," Hem said, looking around the garden. "She made this place because she wanted to see if she could, because there was no one to stop her. It was her first test. Now, she asks herself, what more do I want than a beautiful home?"

"She wants her family," Saliman said, patting Hem on the back.

"And so, here I am," Hem agreed. "But what more?"

"Her friends?" Saliman suggested.

"So she has Cadvan," said Hem with a sliver of a smile. "But, still, I think she wants more. She wants to know, I would think, that Cadvan approves of her and what she has done. She thinks highly of him."

_Does she indeed? _"I'm sure Cadvan is proud of his student. I think, though, if she wanted to impress him, she might consider extending her kindness to the other Bards. Cadvan has always been something of champion of the poor and small. He can't help it, I think it has something to do with being born the son of a cobbler."

"I will let her know you think that," Hem said, and he smiled blithely. "How fares Hekibel?"

Saliman managed to hide his grimace. "She's well, though I really don't think the Barracks are such a place for a woman like her."

"I sent her there because I knew you loved her, and she you," Hem said baldly. "But, perhaps you are right, perhaps she belongs somewhere else. I could see if Maerad has a place for her as a maid. She would come and work here, and then you could see her when you come to teach."

Saliman didn't know if he particularly wanted the woman he loved in such close proximity with Maerad and the Nameless One, but Hem seemed in ecstatic over the idea. "I suppose she would sleep here then?"

Hem eyed Saliman closely, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Would you miss her much?" Saliman's eyes widened and Hem laughed. "I would think she could stay here, but if you preferred her to return to the Barracks…"

"No," said Saliman suddenly, and his face was set uncharacteristically grim. "No, I think she might be more comfortable here, and besides, I would see her often enough when I came to teach you."

Hem brightened at the mention of teaching him. "I hope you don't mind too much, coming here every day. I know it can get tiresome to walk back and forth."

Saliman didn't want to admit that he much preferred coming here, if only to see the garden and eat real food again, because it meant watching the young boy he had come to love as something of a son slowly becoming a monster. It felt like some sort of betrayal. "Of course I don't mind. Besides, I swore to mentor you, Hem, and I've been lax lately."

"You and me both," Hem chuckled amicably, and then gestured for them to return to his room.

Saliman followed Hem back into the Iron Tower, and Irc circled above them once before returning to the boy he so sorely missed.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The sky had been roiling for days, the sea churning beneath it. Nerili suspected that some power beyond the Bards was preparing a defense of the island, and she was all the more grateful for it. In her heart, Nerili was beginning to fear for Thorold, and though she knew she and her people would fight to the last child, it did not sit well with her that this might be the site of the last great defense of Thorold.

_Help us, _she thought, slowly lifting her eyes upward toward the mountain peak. _If there is anyone left who might defend us against Maerad, it is the power of the Elementals. _

_Oh stop, _another voice said, and she shook herself a bit. _You can't rely on an Elemental to come to your defense. They have no interest in the troubles of our world. You must look to your own strength now. _

Nerili slunk back into her room and returned to the papers on her desk she had been pouring over. It was lists of the rations Busk had stored, the most recent count of immigrants within the city walls, and the places they could house them. It wasn't a very cheerful report, and it didn't lend to her confidence. Even with the food stores, even with the School housing them, there was simply no way to support the growing populations for more than a few months.

She ran a hand through her long hair and tugged on a few unruly knots. _The Nameless One won't care how long our stores last, he'll be at us until we must flee our own walls. _

Slowly, Nerili pushed the report aside and turned her attention to a map of the island. She had systematically gone through and crossed off places that been emptied, and the far coastal side of the island was almost all gone. She traced her finger along the coast, her heart heavy. She felt like she was saying goodbye to a close friend

_Have hope, _she told herself firmly, but somehow, it didn't stick. _You must have hope. _

There was a gentle knock on her door and she called them in. Elenxi lumbered through, looking careworn and harassed. He noticed her grim look and bowed tiredly. "I've just come from the School, Neri."

"And?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"They've housed all the refugees, but not even the Bard's houses will hold them all, many have to be kept in the Great Hall. They've begun rationing food, but I think it will be difficult once the war begins. Right now, our fishermen are bringing in as much as they can, but soon, we will lose that resource."

"Tell them to store as much as they can…The School will refund them," she sighed, waving her hand vaguely. Both she and Elenxi knew how slender a hope it was that the School would still be there after the battle.

"You do not have to offer them money, Neri. Owen has already spoken to the fisheries and they have already offered their services willingly." Elenxi gave her a grim smile. "The people of Thorold are loyal to you, and they trust you to lead them in this time."

Nerili was wearing something of a tolerant smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "They are loyal to me, or loyal to their belief in our power? I do not know if I have the power to raze this city to the ground, trapping the forces of the Nameless within. I do not think I have the heart, either," she added softly.

"You cannot fail us, Neri, because no matter what you do, it will surely be your best." Elenxi drew nearer and placed his great scarred hand on her shoulder. She spread her own over his and he could feel how cold she was. "No matter what happens we will follow you."

"Elenxi," she sighed, looking up into his eyes. "What are we going to do? If Maerad is coming, it will be the force of the Elementals coming with her."

"We will fight," Elenxi said firmly. "Maerad may come, and we will meet her, and if we must take up arms against her, we will."

Nerili moved away from him, back towards the window and the view of Busk and the ocean. She couldn't see very far, not with the raging ocean, and she felt her stomach turning along with it. She knew their days were numbered, she knew that very soon, the forces of the Nameless would be on their shores.

"How much longer do you think we have?" she asked tonelessly.

"Days," Elenxi said. "We should be ready by the week's end."

"And what do you think of the battle, Elenxi? Do you have hope?"

It was a bland statement, and Elenxi could sense her hopelessness. "I think we must always have hope, because sometimes, that's _all _we have. I hope to meet these armies in battle, and if I am to die, than I hope my death is glorious and swift."

Nerili smiled. "Spoken like a true Thoroldian. I must admit, though, that I will miss you if you die."

"And I you," she said warmly. "Come let us see how our soldiers fare. If we truly have only a week, then it's now or never, eh?"

Nerili arranged her face into a brave smile and bowed ironically to Elenxi before following him out to meet her people.

* * *

"Fare winds," said Maerad, failing to hide her smirk from Enkir. The breeze rustled her hair and she lifted her chin ever so slightly, smelling the tangy salt air. "It should be a swift journey, a swift victory." They stood on the shores of the Western Sea in Car Amdridh.

Enkir didn't bow, only narrowed his eyes. "One can only hope. The blood of the Thoroldians is fiery, though, as I'm sure you know. Many folk of Pellinor hid themselves there during the Silence."

If he sought to embarrass her, Enkir was very much mistaken in the effect his words would have on Maerad. She glittered with pleasure at the reference. "We burn everything in our path, it is true. But you should have more faith, for I am with you."

"I certainly believe you will do whatever it takes to see your ambitions made real," he said stiltedly.

"A true leader does," agreed Maerad, and then she bowed mockingly low to him. "As I'm sure you know so well."

Before Enkir could respond Maerad turned on her heel and swished off, feeling her power radiate around her as she walked through the ranks of the soldiers. With the latest seal on her power-sending Enkir away-she was truly untouchable now. Her eyes flashed victoriously as men bowed to her and she went to find her brother, who was seated by his horse, looking bored. Irc, tied to the saddle, was squawking at the nearby seagulls.

_I'm the King's Messenger! _he told them ruffling up his feathers importantly. _I am, he said so._

Irc's claim was, however, undermined by the fact that he was tied to a horse, and so unable to fly about, proclaiming his stature. And the seagulls told him so.

"Irc's not happy," Hem said as Maerad approached. "Why did we have to come, Maerad?"

"The Lord of Light wished to know that our soldiers left safely with our blessing, and since he could not leave his work, I offered for both of us." Maerad joined her brother, sitting on a crate, and made a sharp gesture to a nearby maid who had accompanied them. She hurried over with a picture of cold water. "I need better help," said Maerad ruefully as the maid hurried away.

"Hekibel would be suitable," Hem said, recalling his conversation with Saliman. "She's not really a Bard, so it's not fair to keep her in the Barracks. Besides, you like Hekibel."

"I do," agreed Maerad, though she half hoped she could call Silvia so her service. "She's smarter than most, I'll give her that, and she was fun on our journey."

"Saliman would be grateful if you did," Hem said.

"I don't want his gratitude," huffed Maerad. "I'm tired of people's gratitude."

"Then what do you want?" Hem asked curiously.

Maerad thought, looking absently around her. "I want revenge…but I have that. I suppose I want the life I never got to have. All the things I missed when I grew up as a slave, all the memories I never got to make. I never had friends or loves or stories of happy times, and I want those."

Hem peered at his sister. "Is that why you have Cadvan, then? Is he a friend?"

"He's my dearest friend," Maerad said with conviction. "But I sense something about him has changed, and I don't know what. A part of him reaches out for me, but another part withdrawals. It's like he's half in love with me, and I don't know what to make of it."

"Saliman thinks you should show your kindness to others. He says that Cadvan will appreciate that. Perhaps it will ally some of his fears."

"I am kind!" said Maerad in indignation. "I didn't _have_ to ask Saliman to join us, but I did because he was your friend."

"Do not be angry with him, Maerad, he was simply giving his advice as he saw fit." Hem placed a gentle hand on her arm and she rolled her eyes. "Now, I think Saliman is on to something, and inviting Hekibel to be your maid is an excellent first step. You'd be doing her a great kindness."

"This is true," said Maerad slowly. "But I don't want Saliman to think it's for him."

"Are you trying to impress Cadvan alone?" Hem asked with a small smile. "Then who are Cadvan's friends?"

"Malgorn and Silvia…" Maerad mused. "Indik, I suppose. Us, of course."

"He mentioned someone the other day," Hem said helpfully. "Someone associated with Thorold."

"Nerili," Maerad said suddenly. "The First Bard of Thorold. She and Cadvan were friends…" Maerad trailed off, knowing full well that she and Cadvan had been more than friends. There had always been something in the looks they shared, their voices, their quiet, industrious work. She had been jealous of it before, but what now? Now she was First Bard of all, the master of creation. Certainly, she was far more impressive than Nerili? Maerad could barely accept that she was jealous, but she was certain that the seething feeling in the pit of her stomach was jealously.

"Perhaps," said Hem carefully, "you might do her a kindness and then Cadvan would think even better of you?"

"She's to be brought back here and interrogated by the Lord of Light," Maerad said. "There's little I can do to stop that."

"But after?"

"I suppose I could have more than one maid in my rooms," Maerad admitted. "I could ask it of the Lord of Light. He has no use for her once he's spoken with her."

"It'll be a perfect fit," Hem agreed.

"I do hope she won't be all mopey," said Maerad, crossing her arms. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who are ungrateful for the things they're given."

"Nerili will be a good addition," Hem said a bit firmly. "You knew her in the past, yes? So why do you think you would begrudge you anything?"

Maerad's face darkened and she lowered her voice for only Hem's ears. "She and Cadvan were lovers once."

Hem raised his eyebrows. "And so?"

"And _so_," said Maerad testily, "she will begrudge me him."

"Or will you begrudge her?" Hem asked dryly.

"Oh, don't," Maerad said with a flash in her eyes. "I hold nothing against her on principle, but she must know that I know how she feels, and she will hold it against me."

"Are you sure she still has feelings for Cadvan? Bards are long-lived and there is no guarantee that she still loves him as you think."

"Bards are long-lived!" Maerad went on, not paying much attention to what Hem had said. "Our friends especially. Will I have to suffer with her dislike for the rest of eternity?"

"Of course not," said Hem quickly. "She will go at your direction, and if you feel like she resents you anything, make her stop."

"But perhaps she will come to love someone else," mused Maerad, again, ignoring her brother. "There will be plenty of opportunity to meet other Bards. I can bring them to my rooms as I see fit…"

"Perhaps you are over worried?" Hem asked, eyeing his sister.

"Perhaps I am," Maerad said sharply and her eyes moved to Enkir, far away on the dock looking at the ships with dislike. "Or perhaps I am anticipating a problem in the future as any good monarch does. I must always be prepared for the next course of action. I must always be ready with the next step."

"You'll worry yourself sick," Hem said cheerfully. "Be at peace."

"Hem, Enkir has already plotted against me," she said pragmatically. "It will only be a matter of time before another moves against me, and a jilted lover is bound to seek revenge. I can never be at peace."

"There was no point in gaining all this power if you are forced to spend your days in constant fear of being overthrown. You would do well to focus on such things that make you happy," advised Hem.

"This does make me happy," sniffed Maerad, and she recalled her intense dislike of Nerili, who was so much more captivating for Cadvan. "When I first came to Thorold, the Bards treated me like a small child. They dismissed me. Now I am the most powerful Bard in all the lands. I won't be overlooked."

"Then you wish to punish her?" Hem asked.

"Only to make her understand I am not a little girl," Maerad said proudly. "Sometimes, the things that make you happiest are the most difficult to deal with."

Hem was silent a minute, thinking of the people he had encountered in his life that had mistreated him. Hem didn't quite have Maerad's desire for vengeance, and he took much more pleasure in his friends. He supposed revenge against some of the School boys who had picked on him would be sweet. Or the old Bard whose garden he had stolen into. He imagined having the Bard brought before him and made to apologize for how he had treated Hem, and it made him smile faintly. Yes, he could understand Maerad's desire for revenge, but he still preferred Saliman and Irc to any retribution.

"Have her brought to you," Hem finally said. "Cadvan will see it and he will be proud of you."

Maerad nodded her head. _Let him see the two of us, side by side, and he will know then. He'll know that I'm the better. I'm the best._

* * *

When the attack came, Nerili was seated before her fire, sipping wine, her amour and weapons waiting at her feet. The fog that had so obscured the island and offered some small protection had been their own undoing in some ways. The army had passed unseen until, quite suddenly, the fog was swept aside by some magic and the full force of the Nameless One's armada was arrayed before them.

It was a massive fleet, too large to see the end of, and the men who manned the boats were armed to the teeth. As soon as the quay was within range, balls of black fire began pelting the shore. At first they were weak and small, and they succeeded more in damaging the boats in the harbor than starting any fires, but the closer they got, the stronger the missiles became, and soon, the docks were ablaze. The soldiers began to race down to the boats, desperate to put out the fires and release their own boats. A few of the docks were already going up in smoke, the water reflecting the dancing light of the fire like an awful mirror.

Soon, a small fleet of Thoroldian boats had escaped the blaze and were shooting toward the Black Army like arrows. It was now that Nerili rushed from her rooms, dressed ready for war in her mail, and down to the front wall that overlooked the bay. It had been a painstaking struggle to cut a path for herself through the throngs of people who were racing for cover. She had spied many children, clinging desperately to their parents' sleeves, and heard the dreadful wail of someone in fear. Nerili's heart skipped a beat. This was her home, these were her people, and this might have been the last time she would see the island before it was destroyed by war.

On the wall, she was greeted by the rest of her council, the steward, and Elenxi. "How goes it?" she called as she approached them.

Elenxi frowned. "They surprised us, Nerili. Got the best of our ships before we had a chance to get them fully armed. A few have gone out, though, to hold them off while we fix the others up."

"They knew, then, to attack the bay?" she asked tersely.

"It would seem that way," Elenxi said. He saw her worry and added, "It is no reason to suspect we have been betrayed. Anyone would guess to attack our ships first."

"I do not think we have been betrayed," said Nerili softly. "I think we will have to meet an enemy who knows us better than we think."

"You mean Maerad?" Elenxi said, even quieter then Nerili. "You think she is with them?"

"I hope not," said Nerili. "If she has come fully into her powers, I do not know if any of us have the might to stop her."

Elenxi gave her an appraising look. "You are stronger than you know, Neri."

"She is practically an Elemental," she replied, thinking of the story of the stone lion Cadvan had told her. "I would be a fool to meet her in open battle."

"I'll join you," he said bracingly. "Perhaps we can turn her heart, if not her mind."

There was a sudden explosion from below and Nerili and Elenxi's attention was turned to it. While vast in number, the fleet of the Nameless One was large and ungainly, and they had a hard time maneuvering. Three of the boats from Thorold had managed to come along either side and front and catch it ablaze. The powder they were using to burn their missiles had caught and gone up in flames. The ship was sinking.

There was a cry from the harbor and more boats sprang forward, heading for their comrades and war. Nerili felt a thrill race through her as her people fought back. The Nameless One himself might be aboard one of those ships, but the Thoroldians would not be faulted for lack of courage. Even now, as the full force of the Dark fell upon them, they were fearlessly pounding back.

"We must be ready on land," said Nerili, tearing her gaze from the ships. "We can't expect to hold the fleet off; they are too many and we too few."

"We've already sent word to the soldiers to prepare themselves. I was told they would be along the wall within the hour," Elenxi said proudly.

"And the Bards?" Nerili said, setting off for the nearest guard tower and a bit of cover to plan. "Has the School been mobilized?"

"As we speak," he said tritely. "We're expecting many Hulls on those boats."

Nerili thought of the stories she had heard coming from the refugees. Stories of dog soldiers, death crows, and child armies. "We will be lucky indeed if the worst those boats have to offer is Hulls." Nerili threw open the door to the tower room. "Have we moved the catapults to the outer wall yet?"

"Yes. You want them loaded?"

"As soon as those boats are in range, fire," she said darkly. "Our advantage lasts as long as we keep the Dark at sea. Our walls are tall, but they will not last against the masses of soldiers at our door. We must keep them away."

"Even if they land," said Elenxi reasonably. "They will have to take the beach and we have lined its shores with thousands of pikes."

"A good start," said Nerili. "Once our boats leave the harbor, raise the chain link fence."

"We'll be trapping our own boats at sea," he said hesitantly.

"If the Dark gets past them into the harbor, those sailors will be better off trying to flee the island."

Just then, the door opened and a young page rushed in. He bowed low to Nerili and held out a scrap of paper. "For you, First Bard."

She snatched the paper out of his hand with a word of thanks. Her eyes flicked over it, and a little of the tension left her shoulders. "It's one of the scouts we sent to the other side of island. So far, there has been no sign of the Black Army."

"Would you like us to prepare to evacuate the city?"

Nerili hesitated. "Not yet. It is early yet and I would think it a very clever move of the Nameless One to lull us into a sense of safety, only to attack us as we flee. We'll wait a few more hours, and if the other side is still safe then, we'll send word to begin evacuating the city."

"You have boats there?"

"Owen told me that a small fleet of our ships will break away from the rest and head for the other side of the island. They will take as many people as can be and sail for the mainland." Nerili bowed her head, wondering if Thorold would soon be a desolate wasteland, devoid of life. "They've orders to board the young and elderly first."

Elenxi sighed. "There is hope yet, Neri. We have only just begun our fight."

"That's what worries me."

* * *

With their own boats at sea, the attack was soon more even-footed. The Dark clearly had brute force, but the Thoroldians had force of will. Many of the Nameless One's ship were sinking as the smaller, agile Thorold fleet weaved in and out. The fog had completely dissipated, and the light of the half moon cast its silvery glow down on the sea battle. It was a terrible thing to behold, some ships charging forth, others sinking, some on fire, floating on the water like candles. And the sounds that echoed from below, the cries and explosions, the creaking and the pounding, it mingled with the screams from Busk, a single, heartbreaking melody.

Nerili watched the harbor battle until a group of Bards told her they wished to weather work and wanted her to join them. She didn't want to turn away from the boats, but she knew that she had work to do elsewhere. Outside the tower room, Nerili and four other Bards melded their minds together and summoned up a powerful wind. It took a long while at first, and Nerili could feel a malevolent force working against them. Every time they tried to summon a gale from the sea, something beat them back, something stilled their voices and closed their minds.

_It is Maerad, _she thought darkly. _She is with them, trying to stop us._

Nerili encouraged the Bards around her to redouble their efforts and she threw herself even more into the task at hand. It was a strain, to push and push and still feel as if they were making no headway. It was like trying to move a mountain, like trying to tear it down stone by stone. Nerili desperately searched for some grip on the situation, trying to find even a foothold, but it was so hard.

_You're better than this, Neri, _she told herself. _You're the First Bard, a good Bard. And you know Maerad._

It seemed like a useless thing to say, but Nerili realized that she _did_ know Maerad, and knowing your enemy, that was a form of protection in and of itself. She knew Maerad's nervousness, her laughter, her determination. She tried to picture that day months ago when she was tutoring Maerad, and she had created the image of her mother.

_Milana_, she thought, and the word seemed to offer her mind a little relief. She felt the pressure that was holding her down and stopping her wind lighten. _Milana_.

It was the foothold she needed. Nerili was able to feel her way toward the wind, and she drew a deep breath, preparing to call a gale. The other Bards must have sensed her mounting power, because they threw themselves behind her and Nerili delivered a blow to the force holding them down. They broke through the barrier and Nerili was able to summon a wind.

It started slow at first, a whistling in the trees, and picked up, howling down from the mountains. Soon, the city was shaking with the wind, the roof tiles being torn from buildings, debris being blown wildly in the streets. Nerili felt her hair fly out around her as the wind hit the wall, rushed over it, and crashed into the harbor. In a matter of minutes, the harbor was turned into a torrent of raging water.

"Keep beating at the Black Army," Nerili ordered, drawing back a moment to look at battle before her. "I have to go see to the troops. Hold them off for as long as you can."

With the wind on their side, the boats of the Thoroldian forces were pushing the Black Army back from the shores, and there was a small respite for those on land. Nerili was pleased to see that many Bards had gathered and were lining the walls, and the soldiers were at the ready. As the minutes ticked by, Nerili watched the soldiers amass and she began shouting directions to their captains.

"Nerili!" someone cried, and she spun about. It was Owen, rushing over to meet her, his face uncharacteristically grim. "Nerili, I've just come from the harbor"

"How does it go?" Nerili asked gravely.

Owen looked down, hands on his hips. "We are keeping the ships off the shore, but I do not think they will last. The Nameless One sends more and more ships."

"How long do we have?"

"Day break, perhaps a little more. We're going to have to be ready for the armies." Owen looked around at the soldiers and the Bards. "It is going to be a long night. You still want me to leave when the fighting become too much?" he asked gently. "You want me to sail to the other side of the island?"

Nerili looked out to see then back again. "I think you must, as much as I don't want to admit it. In a few hours I'm going to evacuate anyone I can and send them through the mountains. They'll need you."

Owen grimaced. "I don't want to leave Thorold, Nerili. It has been more home since before I was born. It is the only place I know."

Nerili placed her palm to his cheek, fixing him with a deep stare. "The people of Thorold need you, Owen. If this is the last you see of the island, know you left it, not running from fear, but saving lives."

Owen bowed his head, eyes lowered, "Nerili, to serve you has been-"

An explosion louder than before resounded through the air and the wind carried it to their ears. In the bay, one of the Thoroldian ships had been caught in fire between two ships and had exploded. Nerili's mouth opened in shock as she watched the boat blaze brighter and brighter and then begin to sink beneath the water, a fading, painful glow.

"It's only one," said Owen softly, for he perceived Nerili's distress. "We have more."

"No, the Black Army has more, but each life lost is on me," she said blankly. The sinking boat had opened a hole in the line of ships and one of the Black Army was sailing through. Nerili hissed as not only one, but two broke through, and though their ships tried to stem the flow, they were speeding toward the shore now.

"I have to go," said Owen tensely. "Those two will be to the shore in minutes."

"Elenxi!" she cried as Owen raced off. "Elenxi, send your men down to the shore." Through the fray she saw Elenxi smile roguishly and call a group of men to him before rushing out to meet the Black Army.

"So we're coming to it," Nerili whispered as she saw the first boat from the Black Army land and soldiers spilling out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone, this is a little longer than usual, so I guess that good! Also, I may have to change the rating of this to M in the near future. I'm not sure if that really impacts any of you, but if it does, sorry.**

Chapter Eight

The docks were ablaze, the water reflecting the hellish flames. Any boats that had been tied there had already burned up, their debris floating miserably on the water. There were bodies in the water, Thoroldians and Black Army slaves, and they washed ashore, the tide red with their blood. The battle was still raging at sea, but ships from the Black Army had broken through and had docked. Their soldiers had mobbed the shores, and at first, had been held back by the force of the Thoroldian army, but more and more ships had broken through, and soon, the beaches were overwhelmed. The Thoroldians had been forced to pull back behind their walls, and the archers took over the fight. As the sun rose, the Black Army stormed the shore and the archers tirelessly fired into the crowd, holding them back in much the same way a hive of bees might fight a bear.

Nerili had drawn her sword and was encouraging the soldiers on the wall, now and then, summoning the White Fire and sending it blazing down on the Black Army. Around her, the other Bards were glowing with power and as the sun's light touched them, they were like living flames.

"Neri!" It was Elenxi. He was covered in a thin film of sweat and there was a cut on his cheek that was dribbling blood. He had to shout over the wind that was still howling down from the mountain. "They've broken through our defenses. They'll reach the wall in minutes; we must prepare for ladders."

Nerili stared at him a long moment, her mind racing, trying to process what he had said. There was a shout in the distance and the sound of pounding feet. "We need to reinforce the gates. Hurry!"

Nerili and Elenxi sped off down the wall. The men and women along the wall were shooting desperately into the fray below and Nerili watched as another ship of the Black Army broke their barrier. She stumbled to a halt, lifting her hands and summoning all her wrath into a single blow. A bolt of White Flame exploded from her hands and shot through the air like a blazing star. It hit the boat and burst into life, the boat crumpling in on itself as the fire consumed it. Around her, the Bards and soldiers were cheering.

"Good aim," Elenxi said, smiling at her proudly. "You're a First Bard if ever there was one."

"I have yet to be truly tested," Nerili said grimly. "We will see then."

The two set off again toward the main gates. When they arrived, they could hear the screaming of soldiers and a chorus of snarls that were coming from the other side of the gates. The soldiers drew back when they saw her, some looking nervous, others looking relieved. She approached the gate slowly and laid her hands against the door. They were buzzing with countless spells, and she sensed the force of will behind them. It would take considerable force to break them down, but from the pounding of feet and drums on the other side, Nerili thought they might be broken then.

"Elenxi, call for some Bards. We'll need to reinforce the gates," she said, running her hands along it. "If there are Hulls, they'll strike here."

Elenxi vanished only to return five minutes later with a number of Bards who were looking worn. Nerili gestured to the doors. "We'll need to reinforce these with some spell work; they'll hold, but not if the Dark focuses here."

In silent agreement, the Bards joined minds and placed their hands on the gates. A thrill of energy coursed through them all and they poured it into the gates. The soldiers who were stationed there watched in awe as the gates began to glow fiercely and they heard the howls of fear from the other side, and then the Bards staggered back and the light in the gates faded.

Nerili eyed the hinges of the gate. "They will hold for now," was all she said. "Go back to your posts, but be ready, the Dark is upon us now."

As the Bards rushed off, Nerili drew closer to Elenxi. "How many ships have we lost?"

"I'm not sure, Neri. I think Owen has left already." He had dropped his voice, but the wind was rattling so loudly now that it hardly mattered.

"And do you know how many of the Dark have slipped through our forces?"

"Ten last time I checked," he answered darkly. "More will get through as we lose ground…or water, I should say."

"It's to be expected," Nerili sighed. "But Owen has left you say?" She turned to the nearest soldier and drew them aside. He bowed to her and waited on pins for her command. "I'd like you to send word to the people hidden in the School and city proper. Tell them to head into the mountains and make for the other side of the island. There will be ships waiting."

When the soldier hesitated, she gave him a hard push. "Go! They have to get out!" The man fell back, looking stricken, and dashed off into the city.

Elenxi gave her a long look. "They cannot wait?"

"I don't want to risk it," she said, but they both heard the doubt in her voice.

Soon, the fear of the Black Army that had been inspired by the White Fire began to fade. They heard the drums of war, the shouts of soldiers, and the unmistakable clatter of weapons as they jangled in their holsters. Nerili drew her sword and swung it experimentally, testing its weight. She saw that some of the men were pale under their armor, their eyes widening as the sounds of encroaching soldiers drew closer. Any time one of them look her way, she lifted her chin and smiled fiercely; a few returned the look, but most just nodded.

"The men are nervous," Elenxi said confidentially. "Many have not seen an army of this size. Many think we will not last the day."

Nerili surveyed her men and straightened her back. "Thoroldians!" she cried over the cacophony. "Today, we go out to meet out fate. Today, we will test ourselves against the forces of the Dark. Today, we prove to the Dark that we will not cower in the face of danger!" Some of them looked up, their faces glowing. "This island is out home, this island gave me, and you, and all of us, life, and we will defend her to the very last!" She cut an impressive image in the light of early morning and it stirred a sense of pride and courage in the men. "If these armies seek to harm our island, they will meet the blades of our swords, and the points of our arrows, and the edge of fierceness!" A cheer went up from the amassed men. "To Thorold!"

"To Thorold!" they cried in return. "To Thorold!"

At that moment, a pounding began on the gates and Nerili swung around, snarling like a wolf. She lifted her blade and it flashed in the light. _Come then, Maerad. I'm not afraid to meet you, I'm not afraid of the Dark. _

The gates began to shake, but Nerili was sure of her spell work, and they held. The soldiers around her tensed, lifted their weapons, and waited. A pounding began on the gates, like hundreds of hammers beating against them, and Nerili knew that there were Hulls and wers trying to batter the gated down. Still, the magic held, and still the gates remained firmly closed, and Nerili feared the men would lose their nerve, for there was nothing worse than waiting for an attack. At her side, Elenxi spat on the ground.

"Our spell work is too good," he said gruffly. "It will hold for a while yet. I'll summon more Bards."

"It will do little good," she said indifferently. "Once these gates are breached, the Black Army will pour into the city. The Bards will meet the Hulls wherever they happen to be stationed."

"We can stem the flow," he said. "Stop as many Hulls here as we can."

"The only thing we can do is stop the army reaching our innocents, and word has already been sent to evacuate them. No, leave the Bards on the walls were they may defend them. If we lose the walls and the gates, we'll truly be lost."

"You fight then to give the people more time?"

Nerili flashed him a furious look. "I fight because I will not cower."

Elenxi bellowed with laughter. "That's why a true warrior fights!"

For a moment, Nerili wanted to laugh as loud and as long as she could, laugh in defiance of the Black Army that was even now seeking to destroy her. It was simply what the Thoroldians did: they laughed at the Darkness because they burned like the Light. She was thrilled, her blood singing, and Nerili knew when the gate fell, she would be ready to strike.

* * *

For hours they waited, listening to the pounding and groaning of the doors. The men didn't lose their nerve, though a few sheathed their swords and sank down to sit on their haunches. The tension in the air didn't dissipate, however, and they could feel their pulses racing. Nerili and Elenxi were glancing back and forth to each other, in their glances more feelings than words could express. The sun had almost reached its peak before something finally changed in the Dark's strategy.

Up till then, it had sounded as though Hulls and wers were banging on the gates, trying to wear down the enchantments that kept them closed. Now, there was a new sound. It was a deepening silence, so complete that if felt like pressure was bearing down on the assembled. Nerili and Elenxi clenched their fists, knowing that something much more powerful than a Hull was at the gates. Its darkness seemed to leak over the gate like a noxious fume.

"What is it?" Nerili asked quietly, and her voice sounded like a bell. "What is this new evil?"

Elenxi tightened his grip. "I know not."

A sharp sound, like the wood bending under intense pressure echoed through the yard around them. The air became still, the wind that had been whipping around them, falling completely quiet. Then, a fissure like ice cracking rent the silence and the gates bent inward like they were made of clay, not wood and steel. More and more it bent and Nerili waited for the gates to splinter. Something like a gong sounded, a bolt thrown at an impenetrable wall and the door trembled and then fell still. Wind picked up again; the sounds from around them rose in pitch.

"It held," Elenxi said tonelessly. Nerili could see from his shock that he had all but expected the door to crumble.

"Yes, but what was it?" Nerili asked again.

"I do not know, but I think we can assume it will come again."

The men around them had been listening closely to the Bards' words, and their faces were stricken at the news that this thing would come again. Nerili glanced at them and flashed a defiant, victorious look, anything to keep their spirits up and their hearts from failing them.

"We are stronger than the Dark guessed," she said loudly. "We will hold them back yet."

Their waiting began again, and this time, there was fear in the air that would not leave. Whatever had been at the door had not left, as they soon discovered. Twice more it attacked them, beating against the gates with something and bending it till it almost broke. It became obvious that the only thing that was holding the gates in their frames was the spell the Bards had cast, and it was little encouragement to men who were armed with nothing but swords.

Occasionally, Nerili would receive reports from soldiers about the state of things along the wall. So far, the Black Army had not broken their barriers, and though they employed every kind of tactic they could, from battering rams to ladders to mount the wall, they had met only the points of the Thoroldians' swords. She heard, too, that the city refugees had been emptied into the mountains and were making for the coast and the ships Owen had led their way. Around mid day, she received word that the ships of Thorold were fighting a losing battle, and that the Black Army was landing almost every ten minutes on their shores.

As the sun began to set, Nerili prepared for another attack, for she knew the Dark was strongest at night, and whatever the creature was that was currently beating at their gates was keen to attack. She began to pace before the gate and Elenxi watched her, his own heart racing. Light began to fade, and the shadows reached out toward them like claw tipped fingers. Soon, the silence that preceded the attacked of the monster began, and the air fell still and cold.

_It is not Maerad, that is for sure, _Nerili thought balefully. _If it was Maerad, she would have broken the gates and laid siege to Busk. She is not with them._

The door began to bend again and Nerili raised her sword. It would come this time, she could feel it in the very fibers of the gate. Their spell had held the entire day, but it was at its end now. She looked to Elenxi and he joined her, the men shifting nervously in their ranks. The battering began, the joints of the gates crying in protest. The screeching fissure, the final blow…

The gates burst apart with the might of an explosion.

Nerili felt her feet lifted off the ground and her stomach fall out beneath her. She sailed backward through the air and landed heavily on her back, rolling over herself. Her ears were ringing with the force of the blow, and suddenly, the wind was howling again. It carried cries of terror and fury with it, and she was overwhelmed for just a moment with the knowledge that their defenses had been breached and the Dark was pouring into Busk.

_Get up! _she ordered herself. _Get on your feet and drawn your sword. You need to fight. _

Obeying her thoughts sluggishly, she lurched onto her feet, holding her sword before her. She had been thrown far back from the gates, having been at the forefront of the defenders. Already, her men had surged forth to meet the Dark, and she could hear swords clanging and furious shouting.

"Elenxi!" she shouted, her eyes darting around through the fray. "Elenxi, where are you?"

For a terrible moment, she thought he had died in the explosion, and she didn't know how she was supposed to go on without one of her closest friends at her side, but then a voice answered her from her right. "Neri! Neri, help me up!"

Nerili spun around and saw that he had been thrown into the side of a wooden lean-to and some of the rubble had collapsed on him. He was struggling to remove a large timber and Nerili rushed to his aid. As soon as the plank was off him, Elenxi clambered up to his feet. He looked from her face to the Dark forces at their broken gates and gave her a grim smile before he drew his sword out before him and rushed toward them.

_Go now! _he cried into Nerili's mind and she darted after him.

Nerili was flying forward, her blade raised before her and her body glowing with a fierce, white light. The soldiers around her felt a thrill at seeing the First Bard among them, and her power infused them all with a sense of purpose and fearlessness. She felt her blade crash into someone else's and that was all she knew for a long time.

No Bard enjoyed fighting, and it helped sometimes to simply push consciousness away and sink to a more basic level of being. Nerili could control her body and her thoughts, but she didn't _think _of much besides blocking every blow that came her way. At first, she saw no Hulls, and was surprised, but as the minutes ticked by, she heard a cry from Elenxi and saw him raise his hand and White Fire spring forth. An unearthly cry went up and Nerili saw a creature dressed in black fall back, consumed by the flame.

_I'm coming, Elenxi! _Nerili cried, and she pushed her way through the fighting to the front of the lines where the battle was thickest.

There were Hulls there, and they were banded together to cut a swath through the men. Elenxi was facing three of them, and he was frantically trying to stop them all. She was surprised that the Hulls were trying not to kill him, but to simply get past him to the men. She frowned, trying to recall what the refugees had told her.

_The slaves, _she realized, horrified. _The Dark is taking the Bards as slaves. _

Nerili threw her hands up and watched as a ball of flame launched through the crowd, burning everything in its path and crashed into the ground before the Hulls. They caught fire and fell back, screeching in their death throes. Elenxi turned to face her and nodded his head stiffly as another wave of enemy soldiers surged up.

Alerted to the broken gates, arrows were now raining down on them from the walls above, and many of the soldiers died before they reached the inside of the gates, but there were more. Always more. Nerili tossed her hair behind her to survey her forces. They were battered, and being pushed farther and farther back, and she knew lingering here would do little more. They had held back to the bulk of the Dark, but every minute more ships were landing.

"Fall back!" Nerili cried, and she gestured desperately. "Fall back into the city. Quickly!"

Around her, the soldiers rushed back and Nerili looked around for Elenxi. He came pelting toward her, his eyes ablaze and his sword out. "There are too many coming through the gates. We need archers!"

"The Hulls are coming-" A howl went up like a deaden shriek. "-and the dog soldiers."

Elenxi's face went calm and Nerili knew he was mind touching with other Bards. "I know you think it's pointless, Neri, but we should summon as many Bards here as possible to keep the Dark at bay."

"Do it," she said tersely, and threw up her hands again, a wall of fire rising between them and the soldiers.

It took a few minutes, and in that time, Nerili was forced to throw more and more balls of fire at oncoming storm of troops. She didn't see any dog soldiers, but she could feel them in the distance, something cold in the air that was creeping toward them. She wondered vaguely what it was that had hammered the door down, but she forced herself to focus on the present. Nerili managed to hit one Hull, which burst into flame, and she smirked.

Soon, more Bards were coming toward them. Some were grey faced and haggard, and Nerili knew that the fighting was going hard in other places. They gathered around her, watching the forces of the Dark pour into their city.

"We need to make a wall here," Nerili said, pointing where the gate used to be. "We'll keep it up for as long as we can while the rest of the soldiers build up a defense of the city interior. We need to keep them out as long as we can."

The Bards formed a wall and threw themselves into their spells. For a long time, it seemed to Nerili, they were fighting a pointless battle. She watched the Black Army approach and then fall back, and she began to wonder if this all wasn't just some game, the kind she used to play as a child. She and her friends would go down to the shore as children and chase the waves, then scramble away when the waves came back. The soldiers of the Black Army were like the waves lapping at their shores, pushing forward to break their wall, but then falling back when the Bards cast their spells. If it weren't for the cries of terror and the smell of death in the air, Nerili might have been able to convince herself it was all just a game.

After some time, the soldiers who were rushing into the city began to lessen, and the Bards dared take a breath, but Nerili was suspicious. In the distance, she could hear the sound of the battle still be fought at sea, and she saw the boats of the Black Army consistently landing on shore and unloading their soldiers. It didn't make sense to her that the battle should stop at all. Her eyes moved to Elenxi, now covered in blood and muck, and she frowned.

And then, quite suddenly, the soldiers of the Black Army stopped coming forward at all. The Bards were still brandishing White Fire, burning lines in the pavement around the gates, but the men had stopped coming forward and were instead lingering just beyond their reach, watching them with the most curious faces: blank and uncomprehending.

_What is this?_ Nerili asked Elenxi. _They haven't surrendered, I'm sure, but they've stopped._

Elenxi's voice was hard when he replied. _I think they're waiting._

_Waiting for what?_

A long howl rent the air, and as it rang into the sound of the billowing wind, more began to pick up the cry. It was carried to the Bards inexorably, chilling their blood and threatening to stop their hearts. Nerili felt her body tighten like a coiled spring, and a part of her begged to run.

_That, _Elenxi said darkly, and jerked his chin back to the masses of soldiers.

The Bards were still remained defending the gate looked on in horror as the soldiers split apart, forming an avenue between them. At its end, something was stirring, like living shadow, and the Bards tensed, waiting for the thing to spring. Another howl, another dreadful silence, and whatever it was at the end of the column began to move forward. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but the sound that issued from the creatures was more than enough to identify them: groaning, creaking, crying of metal as it ground against metal.

_Dog soldiers! _Nerili cried, projecting her words to the Bard around her.

Not a moment after Nerili had spoken, the dog soldiers burst through the gates and the hit the wall of White Fire the Bards had erected. At first, it held them back, and an awful baying went up, part howling dogs part shrieking humans, and they fell back. But an ordered shout echoed through the air and the dog soldiers began to hammer the wall again and again, and though the Bards were working tirelessly to keep the White Fire burning, the presence of the dog soldiers was distracted.

_We need help! _Nerili cried to Elenxi, and she felt him reach other and call for reinforcements. Not a moment too soon, Thoroldians poured into the street, arrows notched and swords drawn, for the dog soldiers finally leapt through the White Fire.

"Keep them back!" Nerili cried above the howling wind and the screeching of the dog soldiers. "Keep them back, our lives depend on it!"

The dog soldiers lunged for the Bards, not bothering with the human soldiers who ranged the street; they knew that the Bards were the ones keeping the army from Busk, and the Bards needed to be killed before the invasion could properly begin. Nerili called up her power as a dog soldier dove for her throat.

She had seen pictures of the dog soldiers before, but never seen one alive and up close. It was a disgusting thing to behold, the metal snout that jutted from its head, leaking a toxic black substance, the burning red eyes, and the metal armor that seemed sown into its very skin. The dog soldier eyed Nerili keenly before clamping its jaws together in preparation to spray her. Before she knew what she had done, Nerili threw up her hands, creating a barrier between herself and the dog soldier, and the black tar that would have burned her alive splashed back at it. Screwing up her strength, she brought her sword back and used its momentum to propel it into the jaws of the dog soldier. It staggered back by the force of her blow, gushing black liquid from it torn jaws. Nerili pulled the sword back again, spun it around and sent it straight into the soft spot of the dog soldier's throat.

Some of the other Bards, however, were not so fortunate, and they met their ends at the maws of the dog soldiers. Frantic, Nerili looked about, and saw that her arrayed Bards were not going to keep the dog soldiers back. Though some had been destroyed, there seemed to be an infinite number of dog soldiers to take their place, and behind them, the Black Army itself. Above her, the arrows still rained down, but they bounced off the armor of the dog soldiers, and only served to distract the Bards and soldiers on the ground.

_Elenxi, we need to pull back_- her sentence was cut off as another dog soldier lunged for her, and the Bard nearest her threw themselves in the way. The two collided, rolling on the ground, and the dog soldier pinned the Bard down, tearing into his throat with its razor teeth. Stunned, Nerili shot a bolt of White Fire, but it was far too late. _We need to pull back, _she said again.

_We'll lose the gates, _he said, well aware that if the gates were lost, the city would soon follow.

_They're already lost! _Nerili cried back, swinging her sword up in a magnificent arc that sliced a dog soldier in two. _I won't lead my people to death!_

Elenxi wanted to tell her it didn't matter, that death would follow them, but he knew she hoped that some might escape. _Where do we go to? _he asked instead.

_Back into the city, anywhere, just away from the wall. We'll be slaughtered if we stay. _Nerili narrowly avoided being sprayed by a dog soldier, and managed to bury her sword in its belly. _Take some back to the wall to hold the defenses, but the others must form a better perimeter. _

_Where will you go? _he asked, unwavering in his loyalty.

_With you,_ she said with such certainly Elenxi knew she was lying.

_I'm not leaving you here, Neri!_

She smiled grimly. _Of course you're not. I'm coming with you._

Nerili gave the order for her soldiers to pull back and, reluctantly, they did. Many wanted to linger, and some drew closer to her, but she was moving away from them. The dog soldiers were still diving for them, though, and Nerili couldn't quite shake the feeling that they were being driven back like sheep for the slaughter. As if to test her prediction, Nerili feigned a few steps to the side, and one of the dog soldiers darted at her, jaws opened, black tar spraying the ground before her feet.

_Their herding us, Elenxi, _she said, quite horrified. _They're driving us into a trap of some sort._

She waited for his reply, but when it didn't come, Nerili began to panic. Was he dead? She glanced behind her and saw that, to her surprise, he wasn't there. Startled, she realized none of the Bards were there. She was alone before the dog soldiers, and she didn't know where her people had gone.

_They're not herding us, _she heard Elenxi say suddenly, and his voiced sounded strained, like he was trying to reach her from a distance. _They're herding _you.

Nerili spun back around and realized he was right. She had been too preoccupied with the dog soldiers to realize that they had separated her from the rest of the Bards, and then driven the other off. What was more unnerving, though, was that the dog soldiers were no longer spitting their tar at her either, only at her feet, blocking any escape.

_We're trying to get back,_ Elenxi continued, and she could hear the thoughts of others in his mind. _You were at the front, and they chased us off_. _Stay where you are, we'll be there soon._

It was trap, she realized, almost sadly. Someone must have recognized her, must have ordered the dog soldiers to separate her from the other Bards, and now, they were coming for her. She should have known, too, that they would come for her, because she was the First Bard, and hers would have been the banner everyone else rallied behind. When the Dark saw her at the gates, they must have been ecstatic. Whatever was coming, it was coming for her now, and though she had no intention of surrendering, Nerili didn't fool herself with notions of survival.

_No, Elenxi,_ she said forcefully. _Don't come back from me, don't risk it. _

_Neri, I'm not leaving you-_

For some odd reason, Nerili found this funny, and she chuckled tiredly, jumping aside as a dog soldier lunged for her. _Of course you're not leaving me. You're just saying goodbye. _She sensed his fury at her fate, and she brushed his conscious gently. _You can't come back for me, or they'll kill you too. You're going to lead the forces of Busk from now on._

_No!_

Nerili was too tired to fight with him, not when the Dark was coming for her. _As my last command as First Bard of Busk, I name you my successor. Once I'm gone, the people will follow you._ Nerili reached out and passed on her words to the other Bards of the Circles.

_We can help you, _Elenxi said desperately. _Just hold out a few more minutes._

Nerili glanced around her. Soldiers were streaming past into her city, but the dog soldiers were keeping her at bay. _It's too late for that,_ she said, and found she wasn't sad or scared at all. _You'll have to let me go now._

_Nerili! _Elenxi sounded furious at her dismissal of him, but she didn't answer. The dog soldiers had finally stopped snapping at her, and she knew it was just a matter of minutes before her enemy came.

_So, this is how it ends, _she wondered, and looked around again. If she was going to die, she thought, this was how it should be: in Thorold, in the city of her birth, in the place she had loved all her life. _I'm glad it'll end like this, I'm glad I'll die here._

Nerili grinned fiercely at the dog soldiers and they snarled back. "So, where is your master?" she asked loudly. "Where is he hiding?"

"Hardly hiding," answered a smooth voice.

Nerili narrowed her gaze and saw a tall figure approaching through the surging soldiers. He was taking his time, clearly enjoying his captive's predicament, and had his hands clasped behind his back. In the light of the rising moon, Nerili caught a glimpse of white hair pushed back and a tall, lanky frame.

"Enkir." It wasn't a question. She felt a surge of hatred for this _Bard_-not a Hull-who had betrayed them all to the Dark. "I'm surprised you would show your face here."

"Trust me," he said, and finally drew level with her. He stood on the outside of the semi-circle of dog soldiers and examined her like she was a curious insect. His gaze was dismissive and Nerili felt her cheeks go red. "I have no desire to be here in your pathetic little town, but, someone had to come deal with you, so I was sent."

"Not in high favor then?" Nerili taunted and was pleased to see Enkir's jaw clench together.

"Well, after tonight I will be. After all, how else will the Nameless One reward me when I bring you to him?" Enkir's dark eyes ran up and down Nerili's figure. "He's quite anxious to have the First Bard of Busk in his service."

"Service?" Nerili hissed, and she lifted her blade. "I'm not going to be in his _service, _Enkir. Unlike you, I will die before I serve the Dark."

"Unfortunately," he said slowly, "it's not your decision to make. As much as it pains me to do it, I'm here to collect you and bring you to him. Not kill you."

"Then I'll die in the Iron Tower," she said venomously.

"One can only hope," Enkir agreed. "I can't _believe _Busk would appoint a _woman _as First Bard. It's a ridiculous notion, and to think," he snarled, "I was sent to get you. I was! I should be in Norloch, writing laws, ruling the people, watching over the building of the new world. Instead, I was sent here, to this forsaken island, to drag some bitch back to the Nameless One!"

Nerili smirked. "Sorry to trouble you."

"You're not sorry yet," he said softly, drawing nearer, and the dog soldiers growled in agreement. "You will be though. I'll make sure of it. I'll make days and nights of it, and then, when the Nameless One is done with you, I'll find you. I'll make you regret this."

"I'm fairly certain this isn't my fault," Nerili said, preparing to attack.

"I'm fairly certain I don't care," Enkir snapped back. "I'll get my own back, even if it's from a worthless little slut like you."

"You'll get something," Nerili spat, and then threw up her hand, White Fire bursting into life.

The dog soldiers fell back, snarling and snapping, but Enkir had merely produced a shield, deflecting the Fire onto anything around him. Many of the buildings nearby caught fire. Enkir watched them burn, smiling a bit.

"First Bard," he laughed. "You're First Bard of _nothing_! Why Busk put their faith in you, I'll never know. As far as I'm concerned, there're only two things a woman is good for: a cook or a bed warmer. I made as much of Milana, and she was First Bard of Pellinor."

Nerili showed her teeth in a snarl. "As far as I'm concerned, there's _nothing _a traitor is good for."

"I think we see exactly how traitors are rewarded," Enkir chuckled, and then started to glow with fierce light. "Perhaps you'll understand better when the Nameless One breaks your mind and sentences you to spend the rest of your life a slave in Den Raven."

Nerili felt the surge of power from Enkir moments before he attacked her. She summoned up a shield just in time to block his blow, but she staggered under the immense force and her shield sputtered out. When she looked up again, it was to see Enkir now standing within the ring of dog soldiers, his eyes ablaze and pinioned on her.

"I'm not doing this with you, Nerili," he said loudly. "I'm not going to play this game. You're going to stand down and come with me."

"The Dark take you, Enkir!" she shouted, and threw her hands out. The wind around her picked up and rushed at him. Enkir's feet slid back a few paces, and he bent almost double with the force of the wind, but he was still moving toward her. "I'll be dead before I go with you."

"The Dark already has taken me," he chuckled, and made a silencing gesture with his hands. The wind stopped billowing around them and Nerili gasped in surprise when his magic stopped her own. "I said stand down!"

The dog soldiers were snarling at her, their muscles tensed, and Nerili realized it was only Enkir's will that kept them from tearing her apart. "I won't! You'll have to destroy me if you want this to end."

Enkir's eyes danced. "How quaint. I planned on doing just that."

Enkir's next blow was even stronger than the last, and this time, Nerili's shield shattered and she staggered backward, fetching up against the wall of the building behind her. She summoned the wind again, hoping to keep Enkir at bay, but this time it had no effect on him and he moved forward effortlessly.

"Stand down," he said, his voice magnified. "Stand down and surrender. You've lost, Nerili."

_Not yet I haven't, _she thought frantically, and knew there was only one real choice left. _I'll die a free woman or live as a slave, and I know what I prefer. _

Nerili summoned up the words she would need to end her own life, swiftly and painlessly, before Enkir could stop her. She could feel his presence, a malignant, cold will that was pressing down on her thoughts, and she desperately fought back. She only needed a few more seconds…

_Yes! _she gasped. _You won't win, Enkir-_

"I already have," he said, and his voice was in her ear, and Nerili was horrified to find that one of his hands was curled around her wrist, the other, tangled in her hair and tilting her face up to his. He had heard her thoughts, she realized next, and that he must have gained access to her mind.

Hopelessly, she tried to finish the spell, but she couldn't. She couldn't kill herself. "No. Stop-"

"Silence," Enkir hissed, and she felt something like fire race up from her arm where he was holding her and burst in her mind. She screamed and Enkir slammed her against the wall until she saw lights in her eyes. "It's over, Nerili. You've lost."

Nerili felt the pain in her mind growing and growing, beating against the inside of her skull until she thought her head might burst. She struggled vainly in Enkir's grasp, but he clutched her tighter until she couldn't feel her wrist or chin. A whine escaped her, a noise she didn't think she could make, and then she slumped against the wall. The last thing she saw as the world around her spun was Enkir's face, the harsh lines thrown into relief from the fire that was consuming her city.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone! So, I'm really sorry about this, but since my GRE is this upcoming Saturday, I will not be able to post a new chapter next week. I'd like to, but I think I'm going to be way to busy doing last minute studying for it. Anyway, I've decided to put a little special romance that I hope more than makes up for my absence, and also, it's a bit long. Thanks for reading and wish me luck!**

Chapter Nine

Maerad looked up from her writing, scowling at her penmanship. "This isn't quite what I pictured when I saw myself writing," she said darkly.

Cadvan, who was seated across from her, a book open on his lap, looked up, smiling sympathetically. "And do you think I learned the written word so quickly?"

She frowned at him too. "It doesn't matter how quickly _you _did it. You're not the First Bard; I'm the most powerful Bard in all of Annar and seven kingdoms, and I'll be nothing but a joke to my peers if they were to see my script."

"These things take time, Maerad," Cadvan said comfortingly, sensing her rising anger. "You need to work on them, and they will come. What you put into it, I assure you, you will get out."

Maerad pushed the parchment away from her. "Let's do something else."

Cadvan fixed her with a stern look. "Avoiding your writing won't make it any better."

"It bores me," she said dramatically. When Cadvan's face remained unchanged, Maerad gleamed at him. "I can't bear anything so dull for so long. If something starts to wear on me, I'll have it sent away."

The threat was clear in her words, and Cadvan regretfully put his book down. "What would you like to do instead, Mistress Maerad?"

"There's to be a great celebration once we conquer Thorold," said Maerad complacently. "Perhaps I should practice my etiquette. I will be expected to speak and socialize with our many visiting dignitaries."

Cadvan refrained from shouting at her for her celebration of the destruction of Thorold, and instead, he clasped his hands together thoughtfully. "And what is expected of you besides speaking at this dinner?"

"Perhaps music making," she mused. "And dancing. There will be dancing, I'm told, with the many Bards who come and our allies from the South."

_No man who rejoices at the ruin of Thorold can call themselves a Bard. _"So it shall be a Meet then?"

"Yes, I think so," she said. "Oh, Cadvan, it will be so _boring_. All we do is talk, and gossip, and agree with ourselves. Yes, we are the most absolute authority in the land, yes, we have brought an end to war in Annar, yes, there is no power left to challenge us, but why bother saying it if we know it be true?" She sounded petulant, but Cadvan wasn't about to say as much. "Do you remember my first Welcome Feast in Innail? I wore a blue dress, and Silvia fixed my hair, and I thought that surely someone was going to see that I was not a Bard and throw me out."

"I remember that evening well, Maerad," he said, and he did. Cadvan had been ruminating more and more on his memories of the real Maerad, and the night of the Welcome Feast was one that had lodged itself in his mind. He often recalled his own shock at Maerad's stunning transformation, how she had stepped before him, more a princess than a Bard, and agreed to accompany him. Of course, she hadn't really had a choice, knowing no one, but he had been a bit smug that evening, walking her around like they were lovers. "I regret I will not be with you this time."

"You and me both," said Maerad, slouching into her seat. "At least with you I had fun. This is sure to be a wasted evening."

"Perhaps afterward, you can invite all of your friends back to your rooms and we can celebrate here?" _I doubt anyone will want to celebrate Thorold's defeat, but any excuse to leave the Barracks is one to be had. _

"No, I don't think I'll be in the mood for more entertaining," said Maerad simply. "Cadvan, why couldn't you have sworn allegiance to the Lord of Light? We could have gone together. At least then I'd have someone to talk to."

It was the first time Maerad had even mentioned Cadvan's refusal to join the Nameless One, and Cadvan watched her closely as he spoke next. "I am sorry, Maerad, but I am sworn to a different cause."

Her eyes sharpened. "Oh? And what cause is that?"

"To the Light," he said dryly.

Maerad rose out of her seat, and peered out the window onto her garden. Cadvan saw her reflection, and she was sneering. "The Light…_I _decide what is Light and what is Dark, Cadvan. I made this world and I will make good and bad as I see fit."

"You and I both know it doesn't work like that," Cadvan murmured. "There is Light and there is Dark, and they are inherent in the world, in ourselves."

"Are they? And what of me, Cadvan? I, who have betrayed the Light, am I of the Dark then?" She turned to face him and her eyes were narrowed. "I have made this world anew, and yet I am of the Dark?"

"I didn't say that-"

"And you? You murdered the woman you loved. Are you of the Dark?" she hissed and Cadvan flinched. He couldn't bear Maerad when she was like this, all coldness and pitiless observation. "The Elementals taught me that we all have both Light and Dark, and that we must acknowledge both in ourselves if we wish to truly be. I have done that, I have seen the truth of this world, and I tell you now, Cadvan, there is no such thing as Light and Dark."

"There is love," he said softly. "And there is happiness and despair. There is beauty also, and there is pain."

Maerad tossed her hair like a wolf's mane. "No, there isn't. For I have made this world, and if I say there is no pain and despair, there is none."

Cadvan shook his head. "You can't will it away, Maerad."

"Watch me!" she crowed. In two strides she stood before Cadvan, and he wondered if she was going to strike him for his words. Instead, she reached down and touched his cheek gently. "You were hurt, were you not? Did the Hulls not beat you and your friends?"

"They did," he said hesitantly.

"And you are in pain?"

Cadvan swallowed and nodded. He felt Maerad suddenly buzz with power, and he tensed, wishing he could call on his own Gift to stop her. But, since he couldn't, Cadvan remained seated and allowed Maerad's power to flow through him, to his bruised side, and he felt something in him relax. After a moment, Maerad smirked down at him.

"Are you in pain now, or did I heal you?" she wondered knowingly.

"It's not the same Maerad," Cadvan said in a measured voice.

"It is the exact same thing!" she spat, and tore her hands away and glared at him. "You were hurt and I made you better. It just goes to show that nothing in this world is permanent, everything is subject to change." Cadvan noted a strange look in her eyes, and she seemed suddenly far away, like she was seeing something that wasn't there. "Everything has come and gone, and everything will come and go again. I have seen the patterns of the very universe, and I know what will be." She seemed to sink again, returning to herself, and she saw Cadvan staring at her like he'd never seen her before. "So do not tell me that I can make this world how I want. I alone have known the truth, and it is that which gives me power now."

_What truth, I wonder, _Cadvan thought, watching while Maerad gave herself a little shake. "There is much we do not understand, and only a fool will seek to understand it all. That much I know."

"Anyone else," said Maerad. "But I am no fool."

"No, you're not," agreed Cadvan. _Whatever you are, you are not a fool, that much is certain. _"But come, forget we had this talk. Tell me what you'd like to do now since we have so much time."

Maerad pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "I want to dance."

Cadvan raised his eyebrows. "Dance? Will you be doing much of it in the future?"

"This celebration…I would think I will have to dance." She clasped her hands together. "I'll fetch Hem, he should learn as well. We'll need music; Hem can bring Saliman."

"Maerad, he's studying," Cadvan protested faintly.

"Nonsense. He has all the time in the world to study. He can come here and practice his dancing so he doesn't make an awful fool of himself in public." Maerad rushed away from the room and Cadvan rose up onto his feet tiredly.

It wasn't that he didn't want to dance and make music, it just felt so _wrong_. Down in the Barracks, Malgorn, Silvia, and Indik were slaving away, and far away in the west, Nerili and the rest of the Thoroldians were fighting a war. The world could have been burning down around him, but he would still be here, doing as Maerad pleased. It wasn't right that he should live so well and his friends so poorly.

_We're making no headway, _he thought ruefully. _I've been here for weeks and I have done nothing to turn Maerad and Hem back to the Light. I can't push her, or she'll run further into the Dark, but I can't leave her, or we all suffer._

Cadvan stared out the window of her room, out onto the garden where the flowers were in perpetual bloom, where the sun shone, where he could hear bird song. That garden was all that was left of the Maerad he knew. It was innocence and beauty and hope, but it was such a small part of the girl he knew now. It was one small corner of this awful place, and from it, occasionally, a light would show.

_And the truth she knows now. What truth does she know? _Cadvan furrowed his brow. _There must have been something in the Song, some secret the Elementals kept. Perhaps this is the key to Maerad's power and her madness? _

Cadvan curled his fingers into fists and tried to puzzle out Maerad's words. She knew something now that she hadn't known before and it had changed her. A small part of Cadvan was worried that Maerad really had learned something in the Song, and that something had so altered her state of being that she could never go back to the way she was before.

_What did she learn?_ Cadvan thought angrily. It wasn't right that she had some secret that clearly would alter the very forces of life. _What was in the Song?_

Cadvan continued to gaze out over the garden, watching the trees wave in an invisible wind. He wanted to feel the wind on his face and sun on his skin. As he watched, the beautiful blue bird Maerad had made flitted into the air and swooped around and around, and he stared at its iridescent feathers, sparkling like diamonds.

_She made it. She made life from nothing._

The door to Maerad's room opened and he heard voices drifting to him. "…be dancing! You'll have to know how to do it, or we'll just be laughed at, Hem."

"I don't see how hard it can be," Hem said grudgingly. "For the man, I mean. All we do is rotate around on the spot while the girl does all the hard stuff."

"You want to look like you know what you're doing," said Maerad crossly. "Come, someone can make us music." Her eyes wandered to Saliman and Cadvan, who were seated slightly to the side. Maerad opened her mouth to speak but at that moment Hekibel hurried in, eyes searching for her newest ward. When she spotted Maerad she dropped into a curtsey. "Where have you been?" Maerad asked at once.

"Speaking with the cook," she said deferentially and hurried over to the far side of the room to set the table.

Maerad's eyes followed her but she seemed uninterested. Hem, however, smiled benignly. "Cadvan, can you play? Saliman and Hekibel can direct us."

Hekibel glanced up, surprised. A week ago, she had been called to Maerad's service, and she had seen much of Saliman, although from a distance. She wasn't about to complain, though, since her new position afforded her better food, less fear, and even an opportunity to relax. She did miss speaking to Saliman though.

"I haven't had much practice dancing like a proper lady in a while," said Hekibel carefully.

"Neither has Maerad," Hem snorted, and Maerad aimed a playful blow at him. "Come, it'll be fun, much better than cleaning up after my sister."

Hekibel smiled guiltily at Maerad. "This is true."

"Oh, come on, then," said Maerad, waving her over and gestured to Cadvan. "Play something nice."

Cadvan bristled at her dismissive command and took up a lyre, plucking the cords experimentally while Saliman joined Hekibel, giving her the faintest of smiles. "I think you know more of dancing than you say, mistress Hekibel."

She delicately looked away. "I might, but I wouldn't want to be in trouble with Maerad. I'm glad she asked me to work for her, but…I get the feeling I could be just as quickly dismissed. She's very temperamental."

"Yes, I had thought Cadvan was exaggerating, but she is quite…capricious." Saliman eyed her from across the room. "There is something about her, though. Something that remains unchanged."

"She loves Cadvan," Hekibel said simply.

Saliman turned about sharply, staring at her closely. "Do you think so?"

"She as much as told me that's why she asked me to come work for her. She said she wanted to do you're a kindness, and since you were a friend of Cadvan's, do him a kindness."

"That does not mean love," Saliman hedged.

"No," agreed Hekibel, "but it means she thinks about him often enough to consider his reaction to her deeds. It means she is interested in how he thinks about her. And, given how she behaves towards the rest of us, don't you think that means something?"

It was true that as far as every other person in the world was concerned, Maerad didn't care how they felt about her. Hekibel was right: Maerad did seem acutely interested in Cadvan's feelings toward her. "It's not necessarily love."

Hekibel gave Saliman a long, knowing look. "Then what else could it be?"

After a moment of thought, Saliman chuckled. "I wish I had known you long ago, Hekibel, for I fear you are always one step ahead of me. It would have done me done good to have a woman like you about."

"I'm flattered," she cooed, and winked mischievously. "Now come, let's teach our young wards how to dance. I'm sure, as a Bard, I can trust you to know some basic steps."

"I'm insulted," Saliman said, pretending to be shocked, "that you would think I wouldn't know. After all the time we spent together acting, and you think I can't dance?"

"Dancing takes a certain finesse that acting doesn't quite have. There is a certain grace to it I find that men mostly lack." She made a face at him and he laughed aloud.

Maerad, who had been engrossed in picking music, looked up, her sharp eyes landing on them. She looked between them, searching. "Telling jokes?"

Saliman held up his hands in surrender. "Hekibel, as always, has managed to undo me."

Hem looked triumphant but Maerad merely raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it is the job of all good women to undo good men."

Hekibel flashed her a smile. "I think it is the job of all _bad _women to undo _good_ men."

Maerad burst out into a fit of giggles so like her old self that for a moment, everyone else in the room gave pause. Cadvan, seated beside her, caught her eye and he swore he saw a flash of the young girl he knew.

* * *

_You're moving,_ Nerili thought vaguely. It was the first thing she noticed about herself or her location, and she frowned. _You're rocking back and forth. Is someone carrying you?_

Cautiously, Nerili spread her fingers wide meaning to explore her current position, and that was when she noticed that her hand her bound tightly at the wrist. She strained against whatever was holding her, but it wouldn't give. Blearily, she checked her ankles and found that they too were bound and immovable.

_What happened? _she asked herself, taking a deep breath. _Remember what happened. How did you get here? _Her mind was groggy, like a dense fog had seeped into her head and was clouding her thoughts, and she focused on one thing at a time.

_What is your name?_

Nerili.

_Where are you from?_

Thorold.

_Who are your kin?_

My grandfather, Ankil, and my great uncle, Elenxi.

_And your friends?_

Cadvan…

That name drew her up short, jogging something in the back of her mind. She reached toward it, slowly at first, but the longer she examined it, the brighter it burned in her mind. _Cadvan. _It was important, desperately so. _Cadvan and…_And who? _Cadvan and a girl._ Me? Nerili shook herself; it had been a long time since she and Cadvan had been more than friends. _A girl…an extraordinary girl. _There was another name, wasn't there? Cadvan said it…_Unpredictable._

"Maerad," Nerili gasped, and that was when she realized someone had gagged her.

The memories came rushing back: the rise of the Dark, the war in Annar, the attack on her beloved Thorold, and Enkir...that traitor Enkir as he tried to destroy her city. Anger blossomed in Nerili that had been resting for a while now. He had been the First Bard of the Light, and he had betrayed them all. He had come with slaves, and Hulls, and dog soldiers and burned her beautiful city. He had betrayed the Light.

_And he bested you,_ a small voice whispered.

This was true, and painfully so, because Nerili now knew where her hands and feet were bound, her mouth gagged, and her mind befuddled. Enkir had got the better of her at the gates of Thorold and must have taken her as a prisoner. She hissed into her gag.

_What had he said? _she tried to remember, and then recoiled from the thought. _He said he was going to take you back to the Nameless One and you were be his servant. _

She knew, too, that she had tried to kill herself when she realized he was going to defeat her, and he had stopped her from that too. It had been her last act, her only freedom left, and he had taken it from her. She reached for her Gift now, hoping beyond hope that perhaps she could finish the spell and end her life, but her mind was uncooperatively blank.

_No, _she thought frantically. _No, let me go, let me go!_ The last thing Nerili wanted now was to be taken to the Iron Tower. She was no coward, and she knew that if she really were brought before the Nameless One she would stand as proudly as she could, defiant to the last breath, but she didn't fool herself into thinking she would escape torture. No, there would be long hours of it ahead of her, and the thought made her shake.

_Be strong, _she told herself. _The blood of Thorold is in you. You're the First Bard of Busk. If you are going into darkness, you must burn even brighter still._

But her sojourn into darkness only reminded her that she left the light of Busk. Her last memories were still muddled, but she remembered watching fires consuming her lovely home, and she wondered what had become of Busk and the people of Thorold. She had placed Elenxi in charge, and she knew he wouldn't fail her, but a part of her now feared that he had been killed and that Busk had been sacked.

_You mustn't think that way, _she ordered herself. _Perhaps Enkir was sent to fetch you, and upon your capture, was told to immediately bring you back. Perhaps the battle still rages on and Busk is even now fighting for its life._

Determined not to think of her home and her loved ones, Nerili now focused on her surroundings. It took her only a few minutes of exploration to discern the wooden floor and walls, rocking rhythmically to a steady beat she knew was the ocean. So she was on a boat, and by the feel of it, one that was moving. There was no window, so she had no idea if they were traveling or how far they had gone. Neither were there any torches to light her room, so she could not see any of the more specific contours of the place. She thought she might see a door in the wall opposite her, and perhaps a bed in a shadowy corner, but little else was visible. When she strained herself to listen, she could hear the distant thunder of voices.

_I'm on a boat, presumably being taken to the Nameless One. _She swallowed loudly. _I won't be afraid, I won't be made to fear before I die-_

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of rusty hinges squealing in protest of movement, and a flash of bright light. A moment later, a voice she knew-and hated-said, "By the Light, how this room stinks. I'm glad I'm not going to be living here."

"Enkir!" Nerili snarled, but her voice was muffled by the gag in her mouth.

"She's awake," he said mildly and two more sets of footsteps came lumbering in. "I was hoping we could postpone our meeting until later when I've had time to relax, but I suppose we might as well get started." His voice took on a very coldly pleased quality. "No time like the present."

More light filled the room, but before Nerili could get a good look around, two pairs of hands took her from under her arms and lifted her up and carried her across the room. There wasn't a bed, as she had thought, but a wooden frame table, and it was on the table that the men placed her. One of them took her bound hands and lifted them over her head, tying them to legs of the table, the other did the same with her feet.

_Don't allow yourself to be cowed by this,_ she said fervently. _This is just Enkir trying to scare you._

"I am surprised you're awake, Nerili," said Enkir, and he was standing to the side, toying with something in the dark. "You were drugged rather extensively, if you don't mind my saying. I'm _almost_ impressed you're awake."

Nerili eyed him unkindly, and he continued to work. To her other side, the two men who had lifted her were waiting, hands clasped before them, staring at her and Enkir in turn. Their presence in the room did nothing for her nerves, but she forced herself to relax and breathe evenly.

"Well, since you _are _awake, and judging by whatever slurs you called at me when I walked in, aware, I have no problem in telling you that Busk has been destroyed. You're people have either been slaughtered or taken as slaves, and your School has been razed. We are sailing back to Den Raven now, and once we are there, you will go before the Nameless One and he will most likely destroy your pathetic little mind and your people will go to be slaves in his land." Enkir finally turned to face her, and his face was polite and smiling. "Some legacy you leave, Nerili, but I expected no better from a woman."

Her eyes bore into him and she longed free her hands and throttle him for his words.

"Glaring at me won't bring your people back," he chuckled. "Nor will it take you back to your island. All it does is annoy me and give you a headache." He looked at her dispassionately, but his eyes were gleaming. "There is, unfortunately, information you have that I still want. I noticed, after we took the city, that many of the general population were missing relative to the historical population records. This begs the question: where did all the Thoroldians go? I assume you have that answer."

Though it was hard to manage, Nerili smirked around her gag.

"I thought so. This means, of course, that I'm going to have to get that information out of you. This leaves us with two choices: you may either tell me, or I will take it from you." He glanced at her body, the tension in her shoulders and the tilt to her chin. "I think I can guess which method you would prefer?"

Shaking his head at her apparent foolishness, he removed the gag from her mouth and tossed it aside. "Anything to add?"

"I won't tell you anything," she said simply. "You may have bested me in battle, but you won't win this. I'll die with the knowledge."

"No you won't," Enkir said blandly. "I _need _that information from you, because if I don't have it, the Nameless One will be disappointed with me, and if he's disappointed with me, he won't promote me to my fight place as First Bard of Norloch. I _want _that position, Nerili, and I'm going to get it. If this means I have to pry the knowledge from your mind with my bare hands I will, and I will go to no end to get that information. I'm quite prepared for a rather…extreme interrogation."

"You'll find I am as well," she said simply. "I know what you're planning to do to me, and I'm telling you now: I will not betray my people."

"We'll see how you feel after a few hours. I am to assume, however, that no matter what I do to you, no matter how much it hurts, you will not-for now-tell me what I want?"

Nerili met Enkir's eyes unblinkingly. "Yes."

"Then there is no need to hear your annoying words and curses, is there?" Enkir said, shoving the gag back in her mouth. "For now, that'll be enough out of you."

Nerili clamped down on the ball of fabric, preparing for what might be the most painful experience of her life.

_Most painful experience so far, _a mocking voice said in the back of her mind.

She watched Enkir while he toyed with a few items in the shadows. When he returned into her proper line of vision, he was holding a brand. It was one solid circle, but in it, she saw the image of the Sick Moon, the mark of the Nameless One's inner circle. Enkir began to heat the brand, and she watched, her stomach knotting tighter and tighter as it grew hotter and hotter. When it was white, Nerili betrayed fear and shied away from it.

"There's nowhere to go," Enkir observed. He rolled her over so he could see her back. Carelessly, he tore her shirt, tossing the pieces aside, and placed a finger on her shoulder blades. His touch made her squirm, and she hissed into her gag. The seconds inched on while Enkir continued to examine her back, and she grew more and more tense, waiting for the touch of the brand. Finally, he pressed two fingers into a spot on her left shoulder. "I take no pleasure in this, you know that?"

Somehow, Nerili believed those words. Enkir, after all, was not a Hull, and unlike them, did not take pleasure in the suffering of others. She did believe, however, that he was determined, and had a will of steel, and that he would go to any means to achieve his ends. Nerili supposed that he was going to accept having to torture her if it meant he could achieve his ends. He did not necessarily _want _to hurt her, but he would, and a part of him found the act distasteful. It was in that respect that Enkir was unlike a Hull.

_This is how the Dark works. It convinces us there is no other choice, it drives us mercilessly toward one goal until that goal consumes us, and never for a minute do we question ourselves. _

Nerili determined then and there that no matter what was done to her and no matter what the Dark tried to convince her, she would not allow herself to be herded, to be tricked into ever thinking there was only one way out, and it was through the suffering of others.

"You'll understand," Enkir said, removing his fingers. "A time will come when you too will understand that there is no such thing as Light and Dark. Only power."

Nerili closed her eyes and bit the cloth in her mouth so hard she thought she might shatter her teeth. It didn't help in the end, though, because the feel of the brand on her bare skin was like a torture she had never known. Her body bowed, like she was bending under extreme pressure and she whined into the gag. Everything was burning and no matter what she thought of, there was no respite from the pain. Enkir held the brand against her skin until it cooled, and she sagged as soon as it was taken away. She panted as her charred skin cooled.

"I really wish you would tell me what I want," Enkir said casually, reheating the brand and touching her other shoulder. "It would save you so much pain and so many tears. It is the only way out, you know."

Nerili moaned loudly so that it echoed through the room. _There is always another way out. I just haven't found it yet._

* * *

"When was the last time you danced?" Maerad asked keenly. "You act like you've never been this close to a woman."

Cadvan bit down on a rude comment. "It's been many years since I've had reason to be dancing with anyone-let alone a woman."

"You're worse than Hem," said Maerad decidedly, and she stepped closer into the circle of Cadvan's arms.

Cadvan pretended to ignore Maerad's closeness. "I don't know about that. He looked like every step was aimed at your toes. It's a good thing he gave up or I think neither of you would be dancing anytime soon."

"I could have healed us," Maerad sniffed, but she saw Cadvan's averted face and sighed heavily. "I acted badly earlier, Cadvan. I spoke badly."

He glanced up, keeping his face blank, but his thoughts were racing. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I had no right to be cross with you," she said ruefully. "It's true that you said things that annoyed me, but you have always done that. You mean them for the best and I reacted poorly." It seemed to take much from Maerad to say this, so Cadvan didn't press her further.

"Whatever the reason, I forgive you. I too have regretted things I've said and done." He waited for her to look at him and then smiled. "No harm has come of your words."

Maerad relaxed at his admission, and she stopped twirling on the spot in Cadvan's arms. "Walk with me. The night is cool for once and the air is fresh and clean."

Cadvan glanced over to wear his friends now sat. Hem, after a horrible time trying to dance, had called for wine, and though Saliman had tried to refuse, Hem had forced at least two glasses on him. Hekibel was mildly sober and was seated by Saliman, awaiting Maerad's command. When she saw Cadvan's eyes on her she titled her head ever so slightly in question. He shook his head minutely and she returned her full attention to a drunk Hem and tipsy Saliman.

"I'd like to take the air," he said, and placed Maerad's hand in the crook of his arm.

The sun had set and the moon has risen magnificently over Maerad's gardens. Cadvan sometimes wondered if every night was a full moon in Maerad's world, or if he had simply been in Den Raven so long the months were passing without notice. Regardless, the garden was bathed in silver light, and the plants looked like statues instead of living things. He could hear the chirp of crickets and the rustle of animals in the night, and he was reminded now of Rachida at night.

He turned to speak to Maerad, but was suddenly speechless: she looked more like Ardina than ever before. Her hair tumbled down her back, bleached silver by the light of the moon, her face was pale and smooth like cream, and she wore a dress after the same fashion as the moonchild. She saw him looking and raised one eyebrow.

"You look like Ardina," he said, realizing he'd said the words before. "More so now than ever before."

She shrugged. "I am a descendent of the moonchild, but I am far more powerful than she is."

Cadvan was stunned. "You're so sure? She's an Elemental. An _old _Elemental."

"I am both Elemental and Bard," she said with relish, and he heard the smile in her voice, like she recalled something amusing. "I am wildfire and hearth fire too. Two sides of the same coin."

"Do you ever miss her, Maerad?"

"Perhaps…" The talk of Ardina seemed to sober Maerad. "She is, in some ways, my mother, and I am like her in many others. I sometimes feel like her eyes are on me, and I want to turn away, but other times, I am drawn to her." Her little fingers squeezed Cadvan's arm. "I do not know what she thinks of me now. I like to think she still loves me, for I have done nothing an Elemental would not have done, but I know the Song belonged to Elementals, and she would be angry that I have taken it."

"Can you give it to her?" Cadvan asked nonchalantly.

"The Song is made whole in _me, _Cadvan. It lives in me now." She shuddered, something cold racing up her spine. "I cannot give a part of myself away. I-I am afraid it will kill me."

Cadvan came to a sharp halt in their walk. "Have you spoken of this to anyone?"

She smiled ironically at him. "To who? To Hem? He would worry too much. To the Lord of Light? He wants me to keep the Song. To Enkir? He would see me fall. No, my secrets are mine and I keep them to myself."

"But," said Cadvan slowly, "you have told me."

Maerad continued to walk. "You know all my secrets, Cadvan, you always have. And, more importantly, you have offered me sound advice-for the most part. I trust you with my secrets."

"There are many who would give their lives for your confidence. To think you give it to a Bard made slave," laughed Cadvan.

Maerad didn't laugh, but she caught his gaze and held it. "I have too many enemies to bandy words with anyone. And there is no one who knows me better than you. You were my first friend, and, to be honest, my only friend. You know me as I know you."

They had come to a small copse of trees, the one where Maerad had made a daybed, and she pulled him aside. Gracefully, she sank onto the bed and watched Cadvan sit on the chair opposite here. It was dark, so she waved her hand and watched a bright, white light flare to life on the ground before them, burning nothing but lighting everything.

"You are perhaps one of the few who know me at all," Cadvan admitted, but refused to meet her eyes. Part of him loved what he saw, the other part feared it.

"Cadvan," said Maerad suddenly, and he jumped when her had grasped his. "I don't want to be alone."

"You're not." He looked at her hand in his. "You have Hem and you have your friends. You are the First Bard and-"

"These things mean nothing," said Maerad fiercely, and she tugged on his hand until he looked her in the face. "I am alone in this place, ostracized because of what I have become. People fear me, they fear my power! They see me as a monster or an anomaly or some, strange exotic creature. But, I'm not! I'm not!" Maerad jumped to her feet, covering her face in her hands. She was shaking with emotion, and Cadvan fought every impulse to gather her up in his arms. "I'm just a young woman," she sobbed. "I have feelings and fears like everyone else, but no one will come near me. No one will listen."

"You have friends," said Cadvan, but she was inconsolable.

"Sometimes, I think I should just run off. Sometimes, I wonder if Ardina will take me in if I go to Rachida. Will she understand? Will she understand what I have become?" Maerad lifted her face from her hands and stared at Cadvan. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I feel it in me…this power. It's like there's another person inside me, trying to force itself out, and I spend so much time trying to keep it in that I forget who I am! I feel it in my blood, this burning."

She was shaking, and though it was against his better judgment, Cadvan held out his palms and waited. Maerad stared at his hands like she had never seen someone offer her comfort, and, after a long minute, she took them. Cadvan pulled her down so he could hold her while she sobbed. She was kneeling before him, her body draped over his knee, and he was hunched over her, holding her tightly.

"You are not alone, Maerad," he kept saying. "I promise you that."

"I am alone," she moaned. She sniffled and lifted her head, and Cadvan saw that through her tears, she looked angry. "I am different from everyone around me and sometimes it makes me so mad, Cadvan. Sometimes, I just want to break things and beat things until I can look at them and say,_ there, now you're broken too, now you're just like me_."

"You're not broken," Cadvan said firmly, and he tilted her chin so she was looking up at him. "You're anything but broken, Maerad. You're a wonderful, gifted woman who deserves to feel loved."

"I'll never know love," she said forlornly. "That which makes me so gifted has alienated me. No one will come near me. No one will risk my power."

_Don't. Stop yourself right now. _"I have come near you."

"That's because you are my friend," said Maerad pragmatically. "And because you have no choice."

"If I had to choose, I'd still choose you," Cadvan said swiftly, and then clamped his mouth shut.

Maerad had stopped crying and was gazing at Cadvan. "Are you lying?"

"Of course not," he said, turning away.

"Then prove it," Maerad said at once. "Make me believe you."

Cadvan grimaced. _You did this to yourself, you idiot. You let the night and her beauty get the better of you. _He wouldn't lie to himself. Cadvan wanted Maerad. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to do things to her that no teacher should ever want to do with a student, and he despised himself for it. He had sworn to be her guide and protector, not her lover. Maerad feared love and the last thing Cadvan wanted was to scare her. _But don't lie to yourself. You still want her. Besides, doesn't everyone think this is the way to the Light? Through love?_

"I don't want to upset you," said Cadvan.

"I won't be upset."

Cadvan chuckled against his will. "I suppose you won't punch me either?"

"Cadvan," Maerad laughed.

When he turned back to face her, her eyes looked wide and shiny, like she was excited, and he could feel both their heart beats racing in time. "Maerad the Unpredictable," he said, his voice cracking.

Her lips parted in laughter, but Cadvan didn't hear it. His blood was pounding too loudly in his ears to care, and before he lost his nerve, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against hers.

_Please, Maerad, _he thought, gathering her in his arms against him, _please come back. _


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm back! Sorry for the delay last week but school has to come first sometimes. I hope you enjoy this anyway! **

Chapter Ten

"This one is wasted," Enkir said dismissively, looking over Nerili's body on the table. "She won't be doing any talking for a while.

"What do you want us to do with her?" asked one of the men watching.

Enkir took Nerili's chin and turned it from side to side. She felt her world spin with each move of her head, and her stomach flipped uncomfortably. For a moment, she thought she might be able to control herself, but then vomit came surging up her throat and Nerili retched. Enkir stepped back with a furious exclamation as the vomit nearly hit him.

"Filthy whore!" he hissed. "Clean her up! Just- just get her clean enough so I can see what we're working with." With that, Enkir turned about and left the room.

Nerili was aware of him leaving but it did little to encourage her. Her body ached in every bone and sinew, her skin was begging for release, and her heart beating painfully in her chest. She wondered vaguely if she was going to die, if Enkir had pushed her body so far that it might stop her heart.

_This was your first time…_she thought despondently. _The first time. And you will still have to go before the Nameless One. You must be stronger._

The men were moving her now, one undoing the rope that held her to the board, the other muttering darkly that it was unfair they were stuck tending to the prisoner. When the man lifted Nerili she gasped sharply and a small broken cry escaped her lips. The man holding her looked down nervously, clearly wondering if he had harmed her further, but her eyelids fluttered closed and she made no more noise.

"Put her here," said the other. "Closest to the door so we can get water."

"It's going to take hours to clean all these…"

Their voices started to fade to Nerili and she tried to focus on breathing, she tried to think of Thorold and her beautiful School. It took some time to gather her wits, but Nerili finally pictured it: the tiled rooftops, the cobbled streets, the bursts of colorful blooms, the tropical birds. If she strained herself, she could hear music.

_Think of Thorold, _she told herself determinedly. _Think of Thorold before the Dark came. Think of its beauty and splendor. It is you._

"-it there."

Nerili screamed, jerked from her memories as someone dabbed at a wound with a wet cloth. It was a burn, a section of skin Enkir had taken the flat of a white hot sword to, and it had sat for a while. She made a small, twisting motion, trying to escape from the pain, but someone else held her down.

"No, no stop, please," said one of the men. He was large, but his voice was oddly melodic. "We need to clean your wounds. You'll get blood poisoning. Your skin will rot."

Nerili squinted and found herself looking into the face of a Suderain man. His skin was slightly darker than hers, his eyes liquid brown, his face creased with sadness. She tried to speak but her throat was hoarse from screaming, and the man pressed two fingers to her lips. That was when she noticed how scarred his hands were. She stared at those scars, stared long enough for the man to notice her gaze.

"I am slave," the man said. "But I am going to earn my freedom if I fight in this war."

Nerili closed her eyes, summoning what was left of her conscious. _It's not his fault he came to your land and destroyed your home. His home was taken from him long ago by the Dark. He just wants to be free._

"I did not want to come," he said urgently, like he wanted her to understand. "None of us did, but…our families, our children, they need freedom."

Nerili met his gaze and blinked balefully, hoping to convey a sense of understanding. He nodded his head slowly.

"Your city was beautiful," he said reverently. "I was told stories of the Island of Thorold as a young child, and they said the mountain rained flowers, and the ocean lapped at its shores, pristine blue." He paused, obviously thinking of the recent attack. "I like to think that a time will come again when your island will be so beautiful."

_So do I, _Nerili wanted to say, _but I do not think I will live to see it._

The man smiled hopefully, gesturing to his companion. "They say that the lands of Den Raven are being sown again, and that life has returned. Some say the Light has grown there in the Darkest of places. Perhaps it will happen for your island?"

_There can be no Light in Den Raven, _Nerili thought, feeling the pain in her body anew. _There is nothing but death._

Nerili dropped her eyes and the man understood that she, at least, didn't think so. "I'm sorry," he said, touching her face tenderly. "I'm sorry that this happened, but take heart: there may come a time when the Light touches you again."

_I'm going to die in the Dark, _she thought, trembling.

The man glanced back at his companion, something silent passed between them, and then he returned her attention to her. "We need to clean your wounds or they will be infected. It's going to hurt."

Nerili blinked at him, showing she understood, and the man gestured to his friend. She waited, knowing that soon she would feel that sharp pain again as the men cleaned her wounds, and she tried to relax. The man, sensing her nervousness, reached out and placed the flat of his hand on the junction of her neck and shoulder. Surprisingly, it was quite comforting, and she turned her face to his hand. He said something in a different language and she clamped her jaw shut.

It was arduous process. Her skin was raw and aching, and as the man rubbed her with a wet cloth, it was as if he was peeling her skin off. She jerked back and forth against her will, her body completely out of her control. The man holding her put more pressure on her shoulders and she whined pitifully. When the man cleaning her wounds touched a bleeding sore on her thigh, her back snapped up, arching off the floor.

"P-_please_," she rasped.

"You'll get sick," the man holding her said.

_Let me get sick, let me die from it, _she thought in anguish.

But they didn't let her die. The men systematically moved up her legs, over her stomach and up to her chest, rubbing the burns clean. There were times when she passed into darkness and knew nothing, and in those moments of respite, she saw Thorold again, and she felt a lightness come over her. She knew hope and happiness again, but it ended swiftly when she was wrenched back into reality. She sobbed dryly, and the man holding her tried to pat the hair off her head, but it made no difference. Her body screamed for release.

"It's done," said the other man, and his voice shook.

"We should give her water, at the very least," said the man holding her.

"He'll know," replied the other. "He told us not to feed her."

"She'll die without water," said the other.

The man hesitated and then waved at the pot of water they had been using to dampen the cloth. "I'll bring some fresh water then, but don't let anyone know."

While his fellow was gone, the man with Nerili pulled her up into a sitting position. She slumped against him, breathing heavily. Her head lolled back and she met his dark brown eyes again. He flinched away from her.

"We're going to give you water, but you mustn't let Enkir know. He will hurt you if you do."

_Because it could worse than this? _She wanted to laugh at the very idea. Whatever Enkir was going to do next, it couldn't be worse than what he had already done.

"Try to relax," said the man, and he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. The other man returned and Nerili could hear water sloshing in a bucket. She watched as he came nearer to her, and she realized suddenly just how thirsty she was. She started toward the man with the bucket, but the other held her back. "No, wait, you're not strong enough."

_I need water, _she wanted to snap at the man. _I haven't had water in days._

Instead, the man with the bucket placed it down by her side and backed away like he didn't want to be caught too close to an enemy. Nerili tried to summon the necessary anger to glare at the man, after all, didn't she deserve some form of sympathy? But all she could think of was the story of war and slavery and misery that these men had known since the Dark had taken Den Raven. She wondered what she would do, if, years from now, she was offered her freedom in exchange for such crude services.

_No, remember…remember what you swore. You won't ever believe there is no way out._

The other man frowned at his friend and then dragged the bucket over. Nerili strained forward and the man grabbed one of the cloths they hadn't used to clean her wounds. He submerged it in the water and waited a moment while it became thoroughly soaked. Then he lifted it up to her mouth and wrung it out, the water dribbling down her chin and into her mouth. Fervor came over her and she scrambled to suckle the water out of the cloth.

_You're being pathetic, _she thought, but her throat was screaming for release and all she could think of was the days she had gone without water.

It went on for almost five minutes: her, sucking water out of the cloth, him, more like a wet nurse than anything else. The man across from them watched, his face carefully blank but his eyes burning with condemnation; he clearly didn't think they should be having anything to do with her. After she had taken her fill of water, Nerili wanted nothing more than to sleep. Her body was still battered and broken, but she couldn't deny her basic need to sleep.

"We shouldn't be here," said the man who had watched them. "We should be on deck."

The man holding her sighed and shifted her until she was lying on the floor. The cool wood was a balm on Nerili's foggy mind, and she clung to it, trying to keep her bearings long enough to fall asleep. She could hear the men moving around, and she wondered if she was going to see them again or if she would remain alone for the rest of the voyage. One of them reached down and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek.

_Have faith, even the Dark must past._

* * *

Silvia's eyes were on Cadvan, narrowed suspiciously. He had been quiet and thoughtful for the entire evening, quite the opposite of Saliman who was loud and a little drunk. Cadvan, though, had helped Saliman into the cabin, slouched into a corner near the fire and slumped onto the floor. His eyes were lowered and he seemed preoccupied.

"Cadvan, what happened this evening?" she asked sharply. "Have you made any progress with Maerad?

He shrugged. "Perhaps. She was concerned with the victory celebration."

"They defeated Thorold then?" Indik asked.

"It would seem that way," Cadvan admitted. "She was more concerned with not making a fool of herself while she was dancing."

Silvia pursed her lips. "But what of Maerad? Is she the same as before?"

_No, no she is most certainly not. _Cadvan shuddered, but he didn't think it was from fear. All he could member was the feel of her lips on his, the smell of her hair, his hands pressing her against him. "She is very much as she was before."

Silvia blinked at him, wishing he would say more. She glanced at Malgorn who looked up tiredly from his plate of mushy food. "You're out of sorts, Cadvan. What happened?"

Cadvan knew that while he could evade Silvia's questioning, she would be scrutinizing him while he answered Malgorn. "It is…painful to be around Maerad. She isn't the girl we know."

"Has something happened then?" Malgorn pressed.

_Too much, _Cadvan thought. He recalled her argument with him, her secret knowledge of some greater truth, and her fear that the Song was killing her.

"She's afraid of the Song," he said. "She told me that it is alive inside her and that she thinks that if she were to try and remove it, it would kill her."

"_What_?" Silvia rasped. "She thinks she will die?"

"She said it's like another person is inside her, she said she is alone." Cadvan pressed down his memories of what had followed the conversation. "Is it possible, do you think, that the Song really it alive inside her, like some parasite? Is it possible it's killing her?"

"She would know best," Malgorn said uncertainly. "What else did she say?"

Cadvan closed his eyes, trying to recall her exact words. "She said that she is alone, and I think it has caused her no end of pain. I think she wants her friends back."

"And have you tried to help her? Did you tell her you were her friend?" Silvia was leaning forward.

"I-" Cadvan felt his mouth go dry.

"Is that where you two disappeared off to?" Saliman asked, looking across at Cadvan with hazy eyes. Everyone else focused their attention on Cadvan and he felt a wave of annoyance at Saliman. "You were gone…gone for so long. I remember. Hem and Hekibel and I were inside, making music, talking of old times, and you two simple vanished. Where did you go?"

_For once, I wish you were completely, utterly, painfully drunk,_ Cadvan felt like saying. "We were walking in the garden, and that was when Maerad told me about the Song," he added for the others benefit.

"Ah, but you were gone so long, Cadvan," Saliman sighed, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"What more did she say then?" Indik asked, choosing to ignore Saliman's words. "Did she sound as though she wanted to get rid of the Song?"

"I don't know," Cadvan shrugged. "She mentioned-" _You swore never to speak of Ardina to others. "-_she mentioned her family. She wanted to visit them but thought they might turn her away."

"Her family in the north?" Silvia asked. "She wants to go to Murask?"

Cadvan made a noncommittal sound. "She is so lonely, Silvia. She needs us."

"But will it change anything or do we simply appease a monster?" Malgorn wondered. "Will our love help her?"

"Does it matter?" Cadvan snarled, and he felt furious at the idea of his friends only helping Maerad if it would end this nightmare._ You didn't hear her, you didn't see her…She's needs help. _"Should we curse her instead? Should we tell her we hate her and that we only want to see her if she will help us?"

"That's not what I mean," Malgorn said quickly. "You said yourself that pandering to her won't help. Do you think you can bring her around?"

Cadvan placed his face in his hands, unable to bear Silvia's acute gaze on his face. "I think if we leave her alone, it will only make her worse. I think her loneliness is only compounding her pain and her anger."

"She's angry then? Angry at who?" Indik wondered. "The Nameless One?"

Cadvan laughed hollowly. "She is angry at everyone and everything. She told me she is broken and that she wants to break everything around her."

"She is a danger to us," Indik said, but he was looking uncertain. "We might have to play this game though."

_And how much farther will that require you to go if we're to play this through? _Cadvan wondered sardonically. "I'm not sure if we have a choice at this point. Pulling back now might enrage her, and then where would be?"

Silvia was still watching Cadvan, as if she would see something more, and he knew she was suspicious. He shifted around uncomfortably and cast a long look at Saliman, now wishing he would say anything that would turn her gaze from him. Saliman, however, was dozing against the wall.

"I will see her tomorrow, all the same," said Cadvan, "and until I know whether or not it makes a difference to her, I will continue on this track."

"For now, I think it's all we can do," Malgorn agreed heavily. "Ask her, though, about news of the rest of Annar, about Thorold."

Cadvan bowed his head. "And how is the work here?"

Silvia, Malgorn, and Indik scowled. "The same as it has been," Malgorn said distastefully. "They have me looking over the hounds, rearing them, making sure they're breeding. They are awful things." It was a strange thing, to hear a Bard speak so distastefully of a living creature, but it demonstrated the Darkness that even now infested the land and turned life against itself.

"I have been tending the farm land in the fields around the city," said Silvia, and she was rubbing her hands. Cadvan noticed how worn they looked, scabbed and blistered, and he wondered what she had been doing. "They're trying to repurpose the land and have the Bards trying to bring life back into the soil."

"And does it work?" Cadvan wondered. He would have been to not be interested in the power of the Light to overcome the Darkness in Den Raven. All Bards were concerned with the Balance, and if it was possible to return Den Raven to its former glory, perhaps it was evidence that the Light might one day return.

Silvia shrugged. "The farmers say that the land hasn't felt so _fresh _in living memory, but I do not see that much change in the land. The soil is dry and few but the smallest and meanest plants take root. I think it will be a long while before the land will live again."

Cadvan thought of Hem's words. "It is Hem, you know. He wants the lands returned to how it was."

"Why?"

Cadvan opened his mouth to speak but Saliman stirred at Cadvan's mention of Hem. "He saw a world of green and life, he saw the past made real, he saw the Light returned to the land." Saliman smiled faintly at them, remembering something. "Hem can feel the life of the earth; it is his Gift. Perhaps he is right, perhaps the Light will shine on this barren, lonely land again."

Silvia's brow for furrowed as she recalled the land she had so recently been working. "It will be a long while before the Light is returned here."

Cadvan pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. He was thinking of Maerad again-she was all he could think of-and how he had seen her looking up at him, a bright light in her eyes. Had that been the real Maerad? Had any of her been there or was that sobbing, fearful girl just a ruse by the Dark? It made him feel oddly sick, like someone had pulled the floor out from under his feet and he had tumbled into nothing, to think he had kissed nothing but a dream.

"Cadvan, you look unwell," said Silvia, breaking his thoughts. "Perhaps you should sleep?"

"I think I will," he said listlessly. "And I'll take Saliman with me. He's in not state to be up and about."

Cadvan heaved himself to his feet and helped Saliman up. The two stumbled into the small room and Cadvan helped Saliman sink onto his bed. Saliman rolled onto his back, but his face was turned to Cadvan, who was slipping out of his clean shirt and into an older one.

"Did you really go to speak to Maerad?" Saliman asked curiously. His eyes were hazed but Cadvan had known Saliman too long to know that he wouldn't have ignored him alone with a potentially dangerous woman.

"Saliman…" Cadvan wanted him to know. He wanted to tell someone, and he wanted to know that what had done was right. It was okay for him to love Maerad. "Tomorrow, when you are not drowsy with wine, I will tell you."

"You should be careful," Saliman said suddenly, and Cadvan snapped to attention. "There is Light in this world, but it's cloaked in Dark. Can you divine the Light from the Dark?"

Cadvan felt his mouth hand a little open, and he felt a rush of fear. Could he? _What do you know of the difference of the Light and Dark? The blood of your lover is on your hands. You are a murderer. _Cadvan thought of Maerad and a terrible vision passed through his mind of Maerad, her face pale and slack, her eyes blank and unseeing, as Ceredin's had been that day. Was that how this would end?

"I don't know," he said softly. Cadvan waited for Saliman to answer him, but when he looked up, the other Bard was asleep. "I don't know."

That night, Cadvan dreamed he was walking in a wood, and there was silver light all around.

_The grass shifted under Cadvan's feet and he felt a soft breeze on his face. He recalled times in the past when he had walked through Schools, when he had been free. When he knew nothing of Dark. He paused and turned on the spot, watching the silver tree trunks spin; his gaze moved up and he saw the pale green leaves that formed a roof over his head. In the far distance, he could see stars._

I've been here before, _he thought, but he couldn't remember its name. _I've walked these hills before.

_The breeze shifted again and it was like someone was caressing his cheek. He turned toward the wind and was shocked to see a figure standing in the distance. It was a woman, a tall, willowy woman with a fall of hair that seemed to shift between black and white. He narrowed his gaze, trying to see her face._

Maerad? _he wondered, for who else could it be?_

_Someone laughed, but it was gentle and sad. Cadvan's heart leaped. "I am not Maerad, though perhaps we have been mistaken for each other before, yes?"_

"_Ardina," said Cadvan, and he made to bow._

"_Do not," she said simply, and when Cadvan looked back up, she stood before him. She looked, if possible, ordinary. Her hair was pulled back, tied with a simple silver string, and her robes were simple blue silk. She seemed smaller than usual, diminished, perhaps. Her eyes were sad, dark, empty._

"_Ardina, are you-"_

"_We don't have time, Cadvan," she said. She blinked her large, sad eyes. "The Fire Lily, she needs you. She burns, Cadvan, she burns painfully bright in the dark."_

"_I know," he said, and it was as if by saying it, he was freed of his fear of her. "I know she has been poisoned by the Dark, but I don't know how to help it."_

_Ardina looked thoughtful. "This is not the Dark that poisons the Fire Lily. This is the Song of Life, the Song she should not know, the Song of truth."_

"_She said that," Cadvan agreed. "She said she knew the truth."_

"_She has heard the Song and seen the world unveiled," Ardina said, and she was immeasurably sad. "It lives in her now, and while it does, she is its servant. She must be freed from the Song. The Song must be free."_

"_But how?" Cadvan asked desperately. "I would do anything-everything-if it would give me back Maerad."_

"_Song must be made with love," Ardina said simply. "When it was sung, it was not made with love."_

"_What do you mean?" Cadvan pressed. "Maerad sung the Song?"_

"_Song must be made with love," Ardina repeated. She reached up and touched his cheek. Cadvan shivered. "The Song will not be free unless made by love. The Fire Lily does not know love."_

"_I _love _her," Cadvan said passionately. "I would give her my life if it would free her from this."_

"_She does not need your life," Ardina whispered. _

_Cadvan shook his head miserably. "I would give her anything."_

"_The Song must be freed," she said again, and Cadvan felt her hand fall away from his cheek. "She is trapped now, blinded by the sadness of the Song. Help her, Cadvan. Set her free."_

"_How?" he asked again. "Tell me! I'll do anything."_

_Ardina leaned forward and brushed a kiss against his forehead. "Set her free. Make the Song whole. Love and cherish the Fire Lily."_

_Cadvan looked up and saw that Ardina had stepped back. He wanted to reach out for her, to feel the lightness her contact brought him, but his arms were like lead. "Help me. Help me free her!"_

"_Love her," Ardina said again. "Love her."_

"_Wait!" he cried one last time, but the light around Ardina was growing brighter and brighter, and when the light reached such a brilliance that he could no longer look, he closed his eyes._

When he opened them, Cadvan was back in his cabin, and he was staring up at the ceiling, Ardina's last words still echoing hauntingly in his head.

_Love her._

* * *

"Get up!"

Nerili groaned as something hard and heavily hit her ribs. She curled up in a tight ball and tried to ignore the pain in her side. She had been thinking of Thorold again and it was like being struck across the face to be torn from her dream. She opened her eyes and saw Enkir towering over her, his dark eyes looking over her crumpled form.

Nerili spat a mouthful of blood and spit on his feet and his cursed. "Good morning, First Bard."

"You disgust me," Enkir said, still trying to swipe the blood off his shoes. "You are a pathetic excuse for a Bard."

Nerili rolled on her back and fixed Enkir with a burning look. "You're not even an excuse for a Bard. You're a monster, a selfish, bigoted, monster."

"And you're a slave," Enkir returned smartly. "You're a slave woman and I'm going to laugh when the Nameless One breaks your feeble mind."

Nerili didn't have the strength to respond the way she wanted, which included quite a lot of cursing. Instead, she shook her head slowly. "He can break my mind, but it won't stop me fighting him."

"Stubborn wench," Enkir muttered, and he turned away from her. She watched him, trying to follow his progress through the room. She supposed he was going to find something to hurt her with and she wanted to be prepared for whatever might be coming next.

He returned, and he was swinging a hammer in his hand. "And now I will ask you again to tell me where the citizens of Thorold ran to."

Nerili stared at the hammer. "I don't know."

"You're a liar," Enkir hissed, and he tightened his grip in the handle of the hammer. "You know where they went."

Nerili smiled grimly. "If I am, you won't know."

Enkir frowned, seething with fury. He sank down so he was by her side and tore her hand away from her side. "Now, Nerili, I've left you quiet for a while, and I've let you play your game, but now it's time for you and I to speak. Now you will tell me what you know."

Nerili could feel Enkir's fingers curled tightly around her wrist. She knew that what was going to follow would be long and bitter. "I won't. I won't betray my people. I won't betray myself."

Enkir felt along her hand, separating her fingers so they were splayed before him. He rubbed her thumb. "You will be surprised at what you will do when your back it really up against the wall."

He pressed Nerili's hand down against the flat surface and showed her the hammer. "Speak, Nerili, before it's too late."

She eyed the hammer. "I won't."

"Then you will regret this," Enkir murmured, and he lifted the hammer up so that it flashed in the flickering light of a candle.

_Serve your people, _Nerili whispered. _Serve Thorold._

When the hammer slammed down on her finger, Nerili screamed. She arched her back off the floor and beat her other hand on the floor. Enkir didn't laugh at her pain, but he did take her chin in his iron grip and hold her face still until she looked at him.

"Tell me," he ordered.

She shook her head back and forth uselessly. "N-no."

Enkir bared his teeth and lifted the hammer again. It fell on her next finger and Nerili shrieked again. "Tell me!"

_He won't stop unless you tell him, _a voice murmured in the back of her mind. _This pain won't end until you give him what he wants. _

"I'll never say!"

"Damn you, Nerili!" he cried, and a bright fury took him over. The hammer fell again and again, and he smashed each finger like it was dust beneath his feet. She twisted back and forth, crying in agony, but she wouldn't give him what he wanted.

"The Dark take you, Enkir!" she shouted when he finished with her right hand. "Curse you, _curse you_!"

Enkir struck her across the face with the back of his hand and she gasped. "I'm going to make sure the Nameless One chains you up in the darkest, dankest dungeon, and that his soldiers torment you for the rest of your life. You'll scream yourself hoarse begging for mercy."

"My being hoarse won't serve you much, will it, because you still won't know where my people went." She laughed in his face and Enkir hands clamped into fists.

"I'm going to smash your teeth out," he hissed, grabbing her chin and squeezing. "I'm going to-"

"Then I'll never speak to you again," she cried, and she was laughing like a lunatic. "And what will your master say then?"

Enkir threw her down, scrambling for his hammer. "You have less than a week before you kneel before the Nameless One. Less than a week before you finally break. And you're going to spend it here, begging for my mercy."

Nerili rolled her eyes back. _Less than a week. You can bear his torment for less than a week. It is the only thing you can do now to get back at him._

"So be it. It'll only be a week, and then I'll take back a little of what's mine. Then, your last chance will be up," she said, and slumped uselessly against the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone. So I tried writing a character I haven't done yet, and I hope I got it right! If not, feel free to let me know! Thanks for reading.**

Chapter Eleven

Maerad was seated in the garden, watching a few birds flitting through the air. She noticed a particularly blue one, its song trilling and soft, and she followed it for some time. The other birds seemed to avoid the blue one, giving it a wide breadth, and it dove and rose in the air, performing more and more daring feats, as if trying to convince the other birds to join it. They obstinately refused to play along and the blue bird trilled desperately. Maerad watched it.

_So alone, _she thought, her eyes following the bird's areal display. _You're alone, and no one wants you. _It hit too close to home for Maerad, and she reached out her hand and whistled. The bird circled once and fell to the earth like a comet.

It landed in her palm and hopped onto her wrist. "You're beautiful, you know that?" Maerad asked the bird. "I made you and you are beautiful."

The bird chirped in response and Maerad smiled at it. _I used the Song to make you and it made you the loveliest bird of all. You should not be ashamed of what you are._

If the bird understood her, she didn't know. It sang for her and Maerad smiled. "You and I are the most perfect flowers in all of Annar. We will remember this." In the distance, she heard the sound of the door to her room opening. Cadvan was here. "We will be the loveliest, and there will be no one to challenge us."

The bird tweeted and Maerad turned her head, looking over her shoulder, waiting for Cadvan to see her. _Come and see me here, looking perfectly at home in my garden. Come and see me and know that you love me._

She heard Cadvan's footsteps on the ground and she smiled ever so slightly at the sound of his voice. "And have you been practicing your writing and reading, miss Maerad?"

"Should I have been?" she asked sweetly. She turned her head a little, following Cadvan's progression with her eyes. "I thought it would be rude, working without you when we had agreed to study together."

Cadvan smiled just a little at her and took the seat opposite her. "A little work never goes amiss. And who is this?" he asked, gesturing to the bird.

"Don't you recognize him?" asked Maerad playfully. "The bird I made from water. He's grown quite a lot since I last saw him."

Cadvan eyed the bird and was reminded again of the fact that Maerad had used the Song to make a living creature. He was reminded of her power. "Just as stunning as before."

"Stunning." Maerad flicked her wrist and the bird took flight. "They are bringing back the prisoners from Thorold today."

"Are they?" Cadvan wondered. "What is to become of the Bards?"

"They will go down to the Barracks I should think." She pursed her lips. "The First Bard must go before the Lord of the Light."

"Nerili?" Cadvan asked sharply, drawing Maerad's attention. "What will happen to her?"

Maerad shrugged delicately. "I wouldn't know. I would think the Lord of Light will question her and then send her away somewhere."

_Don't make her jealous. _"She is a friend of mine and Silvia's. Perhaps she could stay with us?"

"I didn't think Silvia knew her," Maerad said curiously.

_She doesn't. _"She is on the First Circle of Innail. Of course she and Nerili were familiar with each other."

Maerad hummed. "I will speak to the Lord of Light if it's so important to you."

"I would be grateful," he demurred, and then turned his attention to the garden. "Do you want to walk before we head back inside? I spend so little time in your garden."

"You'll spend more," she said, rising up onto her feet and surveying her land. "It's where I keep the things that matter."

_I'm not a _thing, Cadvan wanted to say, but he held himself in check. "I'm sure they're fortunate to be kept here."

Cadvan offered Maerad his arm and they strolled off. "If I asked you to stay, would you?" Maerad wondered, gazing at a budding flower. "If I asked you to stay here, would you?"

Cadvan's eyes widened. "I don't think I can."

"Not now, but there will come a time when my word is law, and when that time comes, I want to know where we stand." Maerad's voice was hard, but Cadvan knew this was a subject close to her heart.

He turned her gently so she was facing him; delicately, as if to give her all the time in the world to pull away, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. It was the merest brush, and he wanted more, but Maerad seemed to hum with pleasure. "If I could, I would stay here now. There's nothing more I want."

"You would forsake your friends?" she asked absently. "Malgorn and Silvia? You would never wish to see the world again?"

It hadn't occurred to Cadvan that this was what Maerad meant. His gaze swept the garden and he knew it was lovely, but there was something about it that just wasn't right. It seemed as if the entire place were dreamlike. But dreamlike in the sense that it wasn't real. Life was blossoming here, but it was trapped, it was manufactured, it was fake. He couldn't imagine this place as his home.

"I think I would miss them, but if I were to have to choose between this place and you and them, I would pick you." The lie tasted bad in Cadvan's mouth. "This world you have created is…beautiful."

"Stunning," Maerad repeated wryly. She was quiet for a while and they walked on. Cadvan thought she was thinking of something very important and very difficult, and he wanted to ask her what, but he also suspected she would not answer him.

"Do you plan to make the world like this?" he asked.

"Not especially," said Maerad lazily. "This garden…this is _mine_. I made it for me and Hem and the people I think deserve it. It's not meant for everyone to enjoy."

"Then what will become of Annar?" asked Cadvan confusedly. "Are you going to leave it to its own devices?"

"No," she said slowly. "No, I will see it ruled properly, but I will not permit those unworthy of it to live in my world. I think I will live apart, like Ardina did. Her forest was the most beautiful place I ever visited, and I shall have a kingdom of equal glory."

Before he stopped himself, Cadvan said, "I had a dream of Ardina."

Maerad stopped. "What did she say?"

"Nothing," Cadvan answered quickly. "I was walking in a silver wood, and I saw her in the distance. She smiled at me."

"Strange," Maerad said softly. "I have not dreamed of her at all. She has left me, it seems."

"Have you called her on the pipes?" he asked.

"She will not answer now. She cannot bear the Song, I think." Maerad smiled bitterly. "She loves it and hates it, and she will not come near me while it lives within my blood. Now, even the Elementals will flee from me."

She said this with her chin lifted proudly, but Cadvan perceived a deep sadness in her. "We won't flee from you. _I _won't leave you."

It was the right thing to say. Maerad turned to face him and her eyes were glowing with a soft, uncertain light, the kind the true Maerad often had. She looked tragically heartbroken. "You won't ever?"

Cadvan squeezed her hand tightly. "Why would I bother? What more could I find than here?"

Maerad smiled and allowed Cadvan to run his hand through her hair. She shivered with pleasure at his touch and allowed herself to relax. "I don't know what you might want."

"This is what I want," he said again, and he meant it.

Maerad bowed her head and they carried on; they took their time, pausing here and there, admiring the flowers in the garden. It seemed like the garden was more beautiful that day, as if it was tuned to Maerad's mood. There were butterflies fluttering by in the air, like small, floating jewels, song birds warbling sweet songs, rabbits and mice, their coats warm chocolate brown. It was like a haven of Light.

"We really should be studying," Cadvan said at length. He saw her press her lips together in annoyance, but she seemed malleable, and allowed Cadvan to lead her to her room.

Hekibel was there, watering a plant, and when she saw Cadvan and Maerad, she glanced between them. Cadvan wondered if maybe she was reporting to Silvia, and he felt a flush of heat in his face when he realized his hand was holding Maerad's.

"Don't bother with that," said Maerad vaguely, seeing Hekibel. "Go see if my brother needs something. Maybe that crow of his could use some more food."

Hekibel performed a low curtsey and hurried from the room. Cadvan watched her go, wondering if she was running off to gossip with Saliman. "Show me your work," he said.

Maerad went to her room and returned with a number of books and a stack of paper. She dumped them unceremoniously on the table and smiled at him challengingly. "It's been rather dull, pouring over old texts alone."

Cadvan leafed through her work; it was actually quite good. "You're improving, Maerad. You'll be a scholar yet."

Maerad smirked. "The last thing I want is to become a stooped, blind old librarian."

Cadvan chuckled, unable to picture Maerad in any way but as the beautiful young woman she was. "I do not think that will be your fate, especially if your writing _remains _this way."

"Excuse me?" Maerad asked, scandalized, but she was grinning, and she sat down. "Help me, then."

Cadvan sank down beside her and ran his finger along her lines. "It's quite good honestly. But I think you could focus more on the translation of-"

Maerad had moved nearer, and the scent of her hung around them both and Cadvan felt almost light-headed. It was almost like being drunk, and suddenly Cadvan wanted to be back outside in the cool air. She now sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm, and he shivered.

"On the translation of what?" Maerad asked softly, not taking her eyes off her work. She was doing it on purpose; if Cadvan wanted her to face him, he would have to arrange that for himself.

Cadvan pressed his lips together. "The different languages. Not all words in Annarian have a direct translation in the Suderain."

"How do you mean?" she asked sweetly, toying with a quill.

Cadvan reached out for the quill and Maerad brushed her hand against his palm when she gave it to him. "I mean," said Cadvan, admiring his view of her face, "that not all words mean the same thing, or even translate. Some words simply don't exist in languages."

"How? How can a word be something in one language and not in another? We use language to express ideas; it's not as if an idea simply doesn't exist in a different culture."

"Maybe it means something different," Cadvan suggested bleakly, overcome by the memory of his dream of Ardina. She had said that love could free Maerad, but love meant two very different things to him and Maerad. She thought love was possession, he knew love was something very different. "Maybe some things just aren't the same?"

"No," said Maerad suddenly, and her voice had taken on a cold quality. "How can anything be that but what it is?"

Cadvan sensed her disquiet. "Perhaps it is not something completely different, but-"

"Everything has a name, and that name is the truth. If you are not your name, you are liar." Maerad straightened her back and Cadvan wondered if she was thinking of the time, long ago, when he had called her by her true name and she had flinched from it. What did that mean?

_She is no longer the Fire Lily, _Cadvan mused, _so she is lying. _Cadvan decided he didn't want to broach the subject. "Liar is such a hard word," Cadvan said instead. "Do we always know when we're lying?"

Maerad's smile was twisted. "No…no I suppose we don't." She gave up toying with him and looked into Cadvan's eyes. "Do you think I'm a lair? Inka Reb called me one once. He said I lied to myself."

"I think…" Cadvan could almost feel Maerad's anger now, and he pulled away from it. "I think perhaps his definition of liar if different from our own, he just doesn't have another word for it yet."

For a moment, Maerad held his gaze, and he swore he could sense the Song, burning in her, but then she tossed her head back and laughed. "And so we've come full circle. You are right again, Cadvan! Some words really do only exist in one language."

Cadvan chucked, relieved. "Would that we could learn them all."

Afterward, they toiled sometime over Maerad's work. Cadvan wanted her to complete a few pages and Maerad wasn't keen on it. When he threatened to spend the rest of _his _day doing nothing but reading, she gave up and scribbled away. With that done, Maerad called for Hem to come join them, and he came, trailing Hekibel, Irc, and Saliman.

"I want lunch," said Hem decisively. "I've been reading myself into a coma and need food to wake up."

Irc, seated on Hekibel's wrist cried, _Food! Fresh meat and wine! I'm hungry. I've spent all morning in the garden looking for treasures._

_If you hadn't been pilfering, you wouldn't be so tired, _Saliman said dryly. _What did you steal when our backs were turned?_

Irc looked affronted. _I don't steal. I rescue unwanted things._

_I suppose that gilt bracelet I found in your cage was unwanted? _Saliman observed.

_If they wanted it, why drop it? _Irc asked smartly, and then took flight and landed comfortably on Hem's shoulder.

"That crow is getting too smart for his own good," Saliman said to Hekibel.

"Well, at least you got him to shut up," said Maerad tiredly. "The racket he made…Ah well, food then?"

Hekibel said, "I'll send for lunch and set the table." She seemed keen on staying near Saliman, though, and summoned him to her side as she laid out plates, saying she needed his opinion on the wine.

Maerad watched them a moment, but then smiled smugly. She didn't have to jealous of their love when she clearly had her own. With a sly smile at Cadvan, she deftly took his hand in hers. Cadvan accepted the inevitable-that Saliman would know of their relationship and report it to Silvia-and brushed her lips with a gentle kiss. When he looked up, he saw Saliman's brown eyes widened in polite surprise.

They had lunch, a fun affair, since Cadvan, Saliman, and Hekibel were used to food that even dogs wouldn't eat. Hem, after waking up with a rather bad hang-over, seemed off the Suderian wine, and drank water instead. Irc hopped on the table and snatched up pieces of fish, chirping excitedly. They didn't talk of anything important, and that might have been what made the meal so enjoyable: anything Maerad and Hem found important was bound to be horrible to listen to. Cadvan was half terrified of hearing any more news from Thorold, but part of him knew he should be prepared.

As they finished, an urgent knock came from the door and Maerad scowled. She enjoyed her time with Cadvan, Hekibel, Saliman and Hem the most. "What do you want?" she asked, not turning from her friends, waving the doors open. "I'm in the middle of a meal and don't appreciate the interruption."

Cadvan looked pointedly at Saliman, as if to say, _This is what I meant about her. _

A man stood on the other side of the door. He was dressed in finery, wore a smug, satisfied look, and had mean little eyes. "My apologies, my lady, but there has been a disturbance in the Barracks. All the Bards are to return at once to their homes."

Maerad placed down her glass of wine. "A disturbance? When?" She still hadn't looked at him, and her face was bored.

The man cast a victorious look at the Bards, as he clearly couldn't see how Maerad felt and believed they were about to be sent away. "Only a few hours ago, my lady. A Bard tried to escape."

"A few hours?" Maerad wondered, running her fingers in circles around the rim of her glass.

"Yes, and it is imperative-"

"Hem?" she said loudly over the soldier. "How early did Cadvan and Saliman begin our lessons today?"

Hem leaned back in his seat, his expression, one of great contemplation. "Oh, very early, I'd think. The sun had just peeked over the trees in the garden."

"Yes, far too early for them to have been involved in an incident that just occurred a few hours ago." She smiled at her brother. "Why, they've been here all morning, haven't they?"

Her tone, let alone her words, had alerted the man. "Well, I'm not saying they were involved but-"

"If it is impossible for them to have been involved, why then should you bother taking them?" she asked sharply, and turned about in her chair so he could see her stormy face. "Why waste your time and breath coming up here to interrupt me, to let me know that _some _Bard-who I do not know nor care about-has caused a ruckus? Why would you _disturb_ my meal with this nonsense?"

"I didn't mean to disturb you, my lady," he stumbled. "I was sent to collect them."

"Sent by who?" she snapped.

"One of the Hulls, my lady." He looked nervously at Cadvan and Saliman, as if he might call on them for aid.

Maerad blinked and then shot a glance at her brother. "One of the Hulls sent you here, to my room, for my Bards? Specifically?"

"Yes," he stuttered.

Maerad drew a deep breath, her face relaxing into a very secretive look. She clasped her hands in a gesture so characteristic of her manipulative nature now that Cadvan felt a small leaf of nervousness unfurl in his chest. "Do you remember his name?" she wondered.

"N-no, my lady. You know the Hulls have no interest in talking with people."

"No, they do not," agreed Maerad. She pursed her lips, completely blind to the world. "You may take them," she said, waving vaguely at Saliman and Cadvan. "Take them to the Hull who asked for them, and when you do, get his name and return here and tell me."

"At once," said the man, looking relieved. He jerked his chin to Cadvan and Saliman.

Maerad seemed preoccupied and Cadvan wondered what she was thinking, but as he made to leave, a little bitter at her ignorance of him, she caught his wrist. "I wouldn't worry too much, Cadvan. It's all just a ruse."

"A ruse?" he asked.

She smiled toothily. "You'll go now, but never again. I won't have these Hulls challenging me. So just play along with their stupid game for now. We'll win in the long run."

"_We _will?" he asked pointedly, but Maerad misunderstood him.

She smiled widely and pulled him down so that he might kiss her. In a moment of desperation, he brought his hands up and held her face in his palms, wishing he didn't have to go. She purred against his lips. "We will," she said intimately. "For now, you'll go, but you'll come back, and I'll find this Hull and have it destroyed."

It was such a cold, calculated statement that Cadvan broke the kiss. She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise and he smiled quickly. "Always thinking ahead, aren't you?"

"Someone has to," she said delicately, and then flashed him another smile. "Until tomorrow then."

* * *

"We're docking soon," said one of the men who were busy cleaning Nerili's new wounds. She was trembling uncontrollably now, and she had a hard time concentrating on anything. "We'll have to get her fit to ride."

"It's impossible," said the other. "Look at her, she's in no condition but to die." He sounded sad when he said it, and Nerili knew that was the man who had cared for her last time. "They'll have to put her in a cart."

"Enkir will be furious."

"It's Enkir's own fault, isn't it?" demanded the other man. "He's the one who put her like this. If he'd not pleased with his own work, he'll have to take it up with himself. Just clean her up as best you can and try and bind some of wounds. If she dies from blood poisoning, Enkir will take it out on us."

"What you're leaving me here with the witch? Where are you going?" his fellow demanded, sounding worried.

"I'll go tell Enkir that she'll need a cart," he said, and though he sounded positively terrified at the idea of confronting Enkir, Nerili thought she heard a note of conviction in his voice. "Just get her ready for the journey. It's another four days before she can be questioned by the Nameless One."

"She might just die," said the other.

"I'm sure she'd prefer that," said her helper, and then he left.

Nerili was aware of the other man muttering to himself, filling a bucket with water, and dipping a rag in it. After a moment, he grabbed her chin rather tightly and began to clean the cuts on her cheeks. She wanted to scream, but a mouthful of blood came out instead. The man examined the blood, sighed.

"You lost a few teeth," he said, and balled up a cloth and tucked it into her cheek, trying to stem the flow. "Not the front ones, mind, but a few in the back."

Nerili responded with a gurgling noise.

"And your fingers and toes are broken," he said gruffly. "A rib maybe. And you're more blank and blue than anything else now."

_I know! _Nerili wanted to snarl at him. Of course she knew. She had been awake for every moment of every minute of the torture Enkir had inflicted on her. He had lost all control, and for a while, Nerili was sure he was going to kill her. He had broken her bones, beaten her with anything he could find, even pulled her teeth out. Now, she passed in and out of consciousness, reveling in the few moments when she was unaware of herself, and then crying when she felt the burn of her broken body.

"Why don't you just tell him what he wants?" the man asked angrily, still trying to set a few bones in her hand. "Why do you fight him like that? Why can't you just let him have it?"

Nerili was surprised by how upset he was at her refusal. Normally, tormenters weren't _upset _about their prisoner's denial, they were furious. They didn't sound so dejected when they spoke to her. She turned her head to the side and used her non-swollen eye to peer at him. His face was scrunched up into a grimace, and she realized he was quite young. Perhaps just come into adulthood.

"Why don't you just let go?" he asked, scrubbing at a burn on her side. "Why do you allow this to happen?"

_You just don't understand, _she wanted to say. _I owe this to my people, I owe this to myself._

"It won't work in the end," he said determinedly, and then lifted her face up so they were on eye level. "You should just stop now while you're still in one piece." He scanned her body. "Mostly."

Nerili tried to smile, grimaced, and then closed her eye. She was aware of the man going back to cleaning her, and she tried to think of Thorold again, but it wouldn't come. She had faint visions of the ocean and the flowers and the mountain reaching skyward, but she could no longer remember the School or the faces of her people. For the first time, Nerili was scared Enkir might have broken something in her.

Eventually, the other man returned, and he knelt down by her side. "We're docking in an hour. Enkir said to cover her up so none of the other prisoners see her and put her in the cart with the books and notes we took from the First Circle." His hand was resting on her dislocated shoulder, and the heat was oddly reassuring against the burning of the tore muscles. "Get that cloak and we'll cover her face."

Nerili felt herself being pulled up into the sitting position and someone wrapped a cloak about her. It was soft and warm, the first comfort she had experienced since leaving Thorold. The man who had been cleaning her pulled the hood down low so no one would see her face, though she doubted anyone would recognize her in the state she was in, and then lifted her up. Her head fell back against his arm and she gurgled at the strain in her neck.

"Careful!" said the other sharply. "She's hurt."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then have a care, why don't you?" he snapped back. Someone lifted her head up so it rested in the crook of his elbow. "Just because she's a prisoner doesn't mean you should treat her like an animal."

"I'm not!" the other man argued, but his fellow silenced him with a look, and the two moved for the stairs.

Nerili couldn't see through the hood pulled over her face, but she could feel a cool breeze on her face and smell salt in the air. It reminded her faintly of home, but there was something different about the air, something drier and less humid. Something desolate. Nerili was being carried across the deck of a ship, she knew, because she could feel her handler rocking, but suddenly, the ground stopped roiling, and she knew she was on land.

_Where? _she wondered. _Where have I been taken now? _She couldn't see, she couldn't smell much, and she had been hit so many times upside the head she thought her ears would never work right again. _It doesn't matter where you are, only where you're going. You're going to Den Raven._

"Over here," said one of the men. "This cart."

Nerili was lifted carefully, and she was plunged into darkness again. "One of us should stay with her, make sure she doesn't…"

_Make sure she doesn't die? _Nerili wondered ironically. _I suppose there is that risk._

The man who had cleaned her off said he would find Enkir and tell him she was safely hidden from sight, while the other man stayed behind and kept her from dying. Distant noises floated across Nerili's ears, and she heard harsh screaming, animals braying, terrible broken cries, and the sound of the sea. She focused on that, for it was the only thing left that reminded her of Thorold. She reached out for it like it was a physical thing, but the man holding her gently replaced her against the wall of the cart.

"You need to stay still, or Enkir will have us tie you up," he warned gently. "Just try to relax. I know it's hard, but if you stay still, you won't hurt."

_I can't leave, _Nerili thought desperately. _I can't leave the ocean; it's all I have left. It's all that's left of me now._

"It's going to be alright," said the man, and he patted her head like she was a dog. "You just need to close your eyes and sleep. Try to think of something beautiful. Try to think of something you love."

"I am!" she croaked in a sorry excuse for a voice. It startled the man, who jumped at the sound, but then relaxed again. "I am," she sobbed.

"The ocean?" he asked knowingly. When Nerili jerked her head, he sighed and kissed the crown of her hair. "You'll see the ocean again, I know it. You'll return to these shores."

A cry went up and she heard horses beating their hooves nervously on the ground. The cart jerked to life and Nerili strained herself until she caught the smallest glimpse of blue. "Oh, no," she groaned in a raspy, desolate voice. "No, no."

"Don't do that," said the man swiftly, pulling her back and holding her steady. "You need to stop that now and just relax."

_My home, my people, my life. It's gone. _Nerili sagged uselessly; even if she wanted to fight, she couldn't. And she didn't want to fight anymore. Nerili wanted to close her eyes and sleep and never wake up. She wanted to let darkness consume her and be nothing, but Enkir had taken even that. Nerili allowed herself to be repositioned for the journey, and the man continued to talk to her, but she closed her good eye and imagined the jolting of the wagon as the rocking of a ship.

But she must have slept, or else she died, because when Nerili opened her eyes, she was back in Thorold. She was sitting, quite alone, in an untamed forest, but in the distance, she saw the shimmering shores of the sea, and above her, she saw the craggy mountain face. The sky was a pristine blue, cloudless, and it too seemed to shimmer and shine. The sunlight fell on her face, dappled with shadow, and she smelled the sweet flowers and the salt of the sea and rich earth.

_Home, _she thought. _I've come home at last._

She sat for a time, on the grassy floor of the wood, and she knew a peace she had not known in a long while. There was no one and nothing to disturb her, no voices in her ears and no cries on the wind; there was birdsong and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. After a time, she opened her eyes and looked around; the forest was emerald green, blazing with life.

_But where is everyone? _she wondered. _Where are my friends, my family, my loves?_

"They are not here," said a voice, and it seemed to come from everywhere.

Nerili jumped, but the voice didn't sound malevolent. "W-where are they?"

"They are here, too, but not _now_," the voice empathetically. "They exist here in another now, in another then."

"_When _am I, then?" Nerili asked, realizing what the voice meant.

"Another time, before the Dark and before the Light, too." The voice carried around her on a soft breeze. "This is your island before man walked this earth."

Nerili looked around carefully. "Who are you?"

The voice was quiet a long time, but at length, it returned. "I am one who remembers, I am one who is remembered."

"Are you an Elidhu?" she asked nervously.

A long pause, then, "I have been called that before." The wind moved around her again, playing with her hair. "But it is long since I have been in the minds of man. Tell me, Nerili of Thorold, do you trust me?"

"I don't know you," she said carefully, because the use of her name thrilled and terrified her. "But you have done me no harm."

"Nor will I," agreed the voice. "I have many names, but you may call me Nyanar."

Nerili swallowed. She had never heard of an Elidhu called Nyanar. "I still do not know you."

"I do not expect you to," the voice said, but this time, it was in her ear. Nerili yelped, twisting about.

Behind her, the tree she had been leaning against was no longer there, and instead, stood a man. He was the strangest man she had seen, with skin as rough as bark, arms like boughs, leaves sprouting from them, fingers like twigs, and instead of hair, a mass of leafy branches. His eyes, though, were catlike, and they stared at her, neither kind nor angry. She scampered backward, but he reached out one hand, and it seemed to stretch out to her. The twig fingers brushed her face and she felt a rush of warmth; her body slumped.

"I have brought you here because you will go into Darkness soon, and you have a task you must fulfill." She pressed her cheek into his hand and his fingers curled in her hair. "The the Song Boy, he is clouded in shadow, but you will bring him into the Light."

Nerili lifted her gaze to his face. "Song Boy?"

"One for the Singing, one of the Music. Song Boy." Nyanar stroked her face and she felt as if she had never known a single fear or pain. "He will need you."

"I can't help him," she said at last. "I-I am wounded. I can't fight; I can only refuse to surrender."

"I do not want you to fight, fire Bard," he said. "The Song is broken; it must be healed. He is a healer, but he must be healed first if the Song is to be made whole."

"I'm not a healer," Nerili said sadly. "I am nothing now."

"He will heal _you_," said Nyanar gently. "And you will show him the Light."

"I'm afraid," whispered Nerili. "I don't want to go into the Dark. I'm afraid I will fail."

The wind rustled her hair again, a gentle pressure that seemed to embrace her. "Perhaps it is not failure you have to fear at all, perhaps it is a accepting your failure. Have faith in the Light, fire Bard, and have faith in yourself. He will heal you, and you will heal him, and the circle will continue unbroken, as the Song will be."

His voice was drifting away, the breeze slacking. "Where are you going?" she asked suddenly.

"I will leave you now, fire Bard. Rest, sleep, know no evil and fear no pain. You are in my forests. You will wake when you have reached the Dark land."

Already, Nerili felt her eyes sagging, a bone-aching tiredness coming over her. "Why do you call me that?" she asked weakly. "Why do you call me fire Bard?"

She was curled on the ground when the wing swirled around her and the voice whispered in her ear. "Because you burn with fire, little Bard, you blaze with it. Carry it with you in the Dark."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone! Sorry I didn't post a chapter last week but I just got really caught up in school work and exams. I hope you enjoy this! **

Chapter Twelve

Cadvan and Saliman were marched away from Maerad and Hem, a sick feeling in the pit of their stomachs. Whatever had happened this time, they both know it was going to be met with some punishment worse than the last. Cadvan flinched internally, recalling the young Bard having his throat slit on the stage before them all.

_They won't kill many of us. They need us, _Cadvan told himself as they passed swiftly through the halls. _If they keep killing slaves they'll run out soon._

Ah, but haven't they just won a great battle against Thorold. Won't they be bringing more slaves back with them?

Cadvan wanted to curse himself and his thoughts, but he was right. Perhaps they were about to slaughter a large number of Bards as a lesson to the rest that any dissention would no longer be tolerated. In some ways, though, death was much more a release than a punishment. He wondered if he would welcome death now.

_No, you have more to live for. You must save Maerad. _He squared his shoulders and allowed himself to be steered away from Maerad and into darkness.

Saliman was thinking almost entirely of Hekibel, and how grateful he was that she was no longer living in the Barracks. He was horrified at the thought of her being anywhere near this place when punishment was going to be administered. He knew now that he loved her, and loved her more than he cared to admit. Saliman didn't want her hurt, he didn't even want her to witness such things, and a part of him was more than relieved that she would be keeping Maerad and Hem company.

The man led Cadvan and Saliman down to the Barracks. At the gates, there stood a solitary Hull, and as they approached, Cadvan and Saliman reeled at the feeling of emptiness and greed and anger. The Hull stood silently while the man dithered.

"I-I've brought the prisoners as you asked, sir," he said. "They were with Mistress Maerad."

"I told you they would be," the Hull answered in a dead voice. "Give them to me and go."

The man seemed all too ready to surrender Cadvan and Saliman over to the Hull, but as he passed them along, he cleared his throat. "Mistress Maerad would like to know your name, sir, to thank you. She said she forgets that these two are Bards, and did not wish to see them go unpunished."

_Well played, _Cadvan thought, and waited to see if the Hull would believe this story.

"You may not have my name," the Hull responded dryly. "You may tell her I am the chief warden of the Barracks, and that it is my pleasure to serve her."

_He knows he's in danger, _realized Cadvan. _Maerad must have been cleaning house._

The man bowed and stepped back. "I'll send her yours words, sir. Good day to you."

The Hull watched him go, holding Cadvan and Saliman by their forearms. Slowly, he drew them before him and surveyed the Bards with a measure of dislike. "Thought to hide behind the skirts of Maerad? I don't forget where my wards run off to."

Both Cadvan and Saliman clenched their teeth but said nothing. His eyes moved up, looking out over the Barracks that were his domain. "Your kind are fools. You seek the Light, but it is long gone from this land. It will never be again. Come."

The Hull pulled them along, down the dirt path. They were surprised, both having expected to see Bards being piled into the small court yard area where the Hulls gave speeches. They saw, instead, lanes and lanes of empty streets, nothing but shadows moving on their dismal roads. The cabins where they made their homes were silent and dead, their doors were flung wide open, and it looked like a mouth open screaming, but nothing was coming out. The entire Barracks was deserted or hidden in darkness. It was as if every Bard had been killed, and for a moment, Cadvan feared they had.

They came finally to the cabin where they lived, and the Hull took them to the threshold. "One hour, and you will all report to back to the front gates. If you're late, you will be killed." He paused, flicked his red eyes over them, and said, "Even if you are Mistress Maerad's favorite pet."

Cadvan and Saliman moved back into the dark cabin, facing the Hull. It watched them, blinked slowly, and then turned and left. As soon as it had gone, there was movement behind them and a voice croaked, "Cadvan? Saliman? What are you doing here?"

"Silvia, be quiet!" Malgorn hissed, coming forward to pull her back.

Cadvan and Saliman turned about and saw that Malgorn, Silvia, and Indik were seated on the floor, pushed back against the farthest wall, staring with pale, oval faces and dark eyes at the door. They appeared as sentinels, their eyes searching every corner for something. Cadvan and Saliman slunk into the dark room and sat down across from them.

"What's going on?" Saliman asked gruffly.

Malgorn flinched at the sound of his voice. "Be quiet! You don't want to draw their attention to us, do you?"

"The Hulls?" Saliman asked, lowering his voice.

Malgorn nodded.

"What happened?" Cadvan pressed.

Silvia sighed. "Another escape attempt. The Hulls were furious. They found the Bard who tried to run, and they-" She broke off, her voice cracking. Malgorn took her hand and squeezed it gently. "-they pulled her apart. A young Bard, a young girl…they tied her to horses and they pulled her apart."

Cadvan hissed at the news. "And this?" He gestured to the dark, silent room.

"They sent everyone back to the Barracks immediately, and said that if anyone made noise, trying to contact someone, trying to communicate to others, trying to warn anyone, they would close the door and lock it and burn the cabin down with you inside," Indik said in a harsh voice. "They're searching the entire grounds before they bring us all back for the demonstration."

"Did they say what it was?" Saliman asked.

"No," Malgorn murmured. "After what happened last time, I think we can assume it's going to be worse, but how, I do not know."

Cadvan fell silent but Saliman was shaking his head. "Why would another one run? They know they can't get away."

"She was young," Malgorn said sadly. "She couldn't have been newly instated as a full Bard. Maybe she thought there was hope that she could escape and hide."

"But she knew-"

"And what's the alternative?" Silvia asked sharply. "To accept our fate here? To know that we will spend the rest of our lives in this miserable, dead land, slaves to a cruel, Dark will?"

Cadvan blinked, and he recalled Gilman's Cot and the barn he had found Maerad in. Had this been how she had felt then? Had she accepted her fate as a slave forever? Was this feeling of sinking depression, this knowledge that there was nothing left but death, familiar to her? Cadvan vowed then that should this somehow end, should he free Maerad from the Song and she defeat the Nameless One, the two of them would go off somewhere where it was always sunny and warm, and they would forget darkness and sadness. He briefly saw a small white house, perched alone on a hill in swaying grass, the sun glinting off its roof. Yes, he would find that place, and he and Maerad would spend the rest of their lives there.

"She should have waited," Saliman sighed.

"Little good your advice will do her now," Silvia snapped. "She's dead."

"I meant no disrespect," Saliman said swiftly, "I only meant-"

"Silvia knows," Cadvan said calmly, meeting her eye with a meaningful look. "She knows you do not mean to mock the girl by her actions."

Silvia pressed her lips together and then bowed her head and Malgorn spoke into the silence. "But why are you here? I thought Maerad would be able to protect you."

"If she wanted to, she could have," said Saliman a little bitterly. "Apparently, the Hull who called for us is plotting against her…or some nonsense like that. She sent us back so she could get his name. She wants him dead."

"Well, more power to her," Silvia said thickly. "I won't shed a tear for the death of a Hull."

"It's not the death of a Hull that worries me," Saliman said darkly. "Maerad and Hem seemed more than pleased to kill it. No Bard should rejoice in death."

"No," agreed Malgorn softly. "No, they shouldn't."

The group fell into silence, and they strained their hearing, listening for the sound of a Hull's footsteps. In the stretching quiet, they heard breathing of their fellow Bards, the pounding of heartbeats, the emptiness of terrified voices being held. At length, there was a ringing bell.

"Stay close to me," Malgorn murmured to Silvia. She made a shooing gesture, but Malgorn took her hand and held her against him.

They entered the street and saw that their fellow Bards were emptying out in a great exodus. They slumped together down the streets, a dull fear throbbing in their hearts, shadows in their eyes. The Bards knew that what lay at the end of this road was something awful, but even if they wanted to turn back, they were trapped now, running down a ravine helplessly. The Dark was pressing down on them, they could feel the malignant will of the Nameless One turned on them. He was watching them suffer.

At the end of the road, before the Hull's housing, was the platform and a large number of Hulls were congregating there. As the Bards approached, the Hulls shifted their attention, a fission of energy shot through them. Cadvan noticed one of the Hulls was smiling at the assembled crowd and he grimaced down at the ground. It took almost fifteen minutes for the Bards to fill the courtyard before the house. The leader of the Hulls, the one who had called for Cadvan and Saliman to be brought back was pacing at the front of the stage.

"And here we are again," it said, baring its teeth at them. "I had hoped you might not be brought back here, but it seems one of your number decided to push us. She brought you here."

It was a cruel thing, to mock the dead woman who had been torn apart. Cadvan felt a wave of fury directed at the Hull, but he pressed it down and kept his eyes on the ground. If it noticed how angry he was, it might attack.

"I warned you last time that if something like this happened again, there would be serious consequences." It flicked its eyes at the Bards in the front row, and then glanced to its fellows; there were more than usual, Cadvan noticed. "It seems as if running away is the only thing you Bards know how to do, and so, we will have to stop the running. All of you, line up into ten rows."

Cadvan fell in line behind Saliman and they lined up, far in the back. Cadvan, taller than the others, could see that the Hulls were forming small groups, waving Bards forward. There was perhaps five minutes of silence, then a horrible scream, someone shrieking uncontrollably. Cadvan felt his heart jump into his throat. What was happening?

"Can you see?" Silvia asked in an empty voice. She had long since accepted that there would pain in her future, and the screams of a fellow Bard hadn't shaken her resolve one bit. "What are they doing?"

"I don't know," said Cadvan as another scream rent the air. He looked beyond the person in front of him and saw the figure of a Bard stagger away, stumble off the stage and begin to limp back the way they had come. "They're not being killed."

"Then what is it?" Saliman asked curiously.

* * *

_You must wake up now, Fire Bard_, said the voice of Nyanar, and Nerili twitched. She saw the canopy of leaves above her, the light coming through in different shades of green. She felt warmth on her face. _You will enter the Dark lands now, and I must leave you._

"Please, don't go," Nerili said softly. She felt herself relaxing against the soft ground and she wanted to curl up there and let the earth swallow her. "Can't you keep me here?"

_You must wake up now_, he said again, and a wind stirred her hair and brushed her face. A tender, supplicating gesture.

"Please, stay with me," she murmured into the breeze.

Something brushed her face, but it was rough. "You must wake up now," the voice said, and it wasn't Nyanar. "Please, wake up."

Nerili felt herself tear her eyelid apart, and saw the worn face of the man who had been cleaning her staring back. Upon seeing him, the memories of pain and tiredness and fear flashed before her eyes, and her body burned and her mind screamed for release. The air was dry and each breath was like fire. The light of the sun burned her, too hot, too unforgiving, too dead. She had returned to the world of the living.

"I'm awake," she croaked.

A sigh of relief. "We thought you had died," he said, gently rubbing her face. "You passed out four days ago; you've eaten and drank nothing since we loaded you into the cart."

Nerili licked her lips but her tongue was almost as dry as her lips. "I need water," she gasped. "Water."

The man struggled with something behind him and then revealed a water skin. A fevered energy overtook Nerili and she snatched it from his hands. Without even thinking, she tipped the skin back and began to drink. In two minutes, she'd finished the entire thing and was asking for more. The man handed her another, looking almost scared; she drank it too, and then sat back against the cart wall. Her body ached, her head was pounding, her stomach was roiling in hunger, but she felt new life in her. She felt like she had just spent the last four days in the most refreshing sleep and had woken with a new purpose. Yes, she was weak, and yes, her body was broken, but there was life in her again.

"What is it?" she asked, watching the man.

"How do you live?" he asked simply. "Any other man would be dead, and yet you drink and speak as if you have merely been at rest. You should be dead."

Nerili fixed him with a hard look. "I have been sleeping in the land of the Elidhu. Do you know them?"

"Are they spirits?" asked the man with slight trepidation. "Have you been calling on magic?"

Nerili smiled briefly, but it hurt and she grimaced instead. "I? No, I cannot call on the Elidhu to aid me, but they come when they are needed. One came to me, he took me…away."

"You are delirious," said the man stoutly. "You haven't eaten in days."

"I am that," she agreed, thinking of the feel of the soft breeze on her face, "but I am not wrong. I was back in Thorold, but in a different time, before there was Darkness and Light. I knew and felt nothing. I was safe."

The man studied her a moment and then reached behind him and pulled out a few crackers and cheese. He held them out, looking sad. "I saved pieces of my dinner for you. Eat them, quick, before Enkir comes."

Nerili nibbled the crackers and let the cheese simply melt in her mouth. As she ate, she tried to recall her time spent in Thorold with Nyanar, for she suspected that soon, she wouldn't even be able to remember it. She closed her eyes and sank into herself, and the man with her watched her closely. He had been told the Bards used magic, but the way she spoke…it was like she had traveled to another place. He wondered what it was like, who this Elidhu fellow was in the first place.

"How far are we out of Den Raven?" she asked once the food was gone.

"Only a few hours more," the man said. He gazed at her a moment longer and then looked down. "You should know, Enkir was here just the other day; he said that when we arrived you were going to be taken to the Lord of Light. You would be judged before him."

Nerili shuddered. _Ah, but you knew this would happen. You knew as First Bard you would go before the Nameless One. You knew your fate._

"Enkir says afterward…he says you will be killed. Or worse."

"Or worse, indeed," was all Nerili said. She held on to no delusions about what would happen soon. She would stand before the Nameless One, and he would break her mind; she might have thought to kill herself, but Enkir had taken that power from her. Once he had destroyed her, Nerili didn't know what he planned. She hoped he might kill her, but that seemed unlikely, and besides…she had to find Maerad and her brother.

_Nyanar said you would heal him,_ she reminded herself. _You will suffer greatly, but it will be for the Light. What did he say? He will heal you, and you will heal him. Your pain is not for nothing._

"I am so sorry," said the man, supposing her silence to have been in mourning.

"Don't be," Nerili said after a moment. "This is my fate. This is what I must do."

He stared at her, at her face, bruised and torn, one eye swollen nearly shut; at her broken body, the bent and twisted fingers, the broken ribs, the whip lashes and brandings. He stared at her and then, cautiously moved closer and brushed her face with the back of his hand. Nerili was so reminded of Nyanar that she gasped.

"I won't hurt you," he said cajolingly, mistaking her surprise for fear.

Her hand shaking, Nerili placed her palm over his hand. "I know."

His other hand came up and brushed the hair off her face. She bowed her head and he took it as a sign to drawn her against him in a warm embrace. They stayed like that for some time, and Nerili realized how much she had come to rely on this man she knew nothing about. He had fed her and watered her and healed her, he had cared for her when no one else had; he had given her everything he could.

"What is your name?" she asked when she heard cries going up, announcing their arrival to Den Raven. "Tell me your name before I go to the Dark."

He shook his head uselessly. "That is what you want? Your last request?"

Nerili nodded her head as firmly as she could. "Irvain."

"That is all? No surname, no father, no home-"

"I lost them all when the Dark Army came, but perhaps I will have them once more." He looked apologetic. "If even I am blessed by the Light to have a daughter, I will name her after you, and I can only hope she will be as strong and brave and resilient as you. Is that alright with you?"

Nerili kissed his hand in a show of supplication. "It is, Irvain."

They spent the rest of the ride into Den Raven in silence, Nerili rested against Irvain, preparing herself for whatever Darkness laid ahead.

* * *

They had been milling in the line for almost an hour before they came close enough to see what was happening on the stage. Cadvan, the tallest, saw it first, and he didn't immediately tell his companions what it was; instead, he rested back on the heels of his feet, trying to find a way to explain what was being done. After almost five minutes of hearing cries of pain and dry sobbing, Silvia turned to him.

"Cadvan, we must be close enough now. What do you see?"

Cadvan licked his lips and rose up on the balls of his feet, pretending to spy on the stage and the people on it. After a moment, he sank back down. Part of him wanted to say he had seen nothing, but it wasn't fair to leave them in the dark.

"It looks like they're-they're cutting the tendon on the back of one the legs," he stuttered.

Silvia and Malgorn's eyes widened markedly. Saliman said, "But, we won't be able to walk!"

At that moment, a young man struggled by them. The back of his right pant leg was suffused with blood and he was walking with a horrible limp, unable to place any weight on his right foot. His face was carved into lines of pain, and he held his foot awkwardly every time he took a step.

"By the Light," murmured Indik.

"Stop this talk of the Light," spat Saliman, his face dark. "There is no such thing as the Light in a place like this. There is no such as the Light in this world."

"Saliman-" began Silvia, but he cut her off.

"It's true!" He gestured wildly around. "Look at what had been done to our people. Look what the Dark has reduced us to. We will die here, all of us will die here, forsaken by the Light." A few faces had turned in his direction, but Saliman didn't seem to care. "The only solace I take in all of this is that Hekibel isn't here to suffer with me. Let her stay locked away with Maerad, let her forget this dreadful place."

Cadvan felt a flash of anger at Saliman's mention of Maerad. Surely, she must have known what awaited them, or at least she could have guessed? She had abandoned them to this torture because she wanted to have her revenge against the Hull who was challenging her, she would let them all suffer for her pride.

_Does she love you? _a small voice asked Cadvan. _Does she love you when she cares more for her reputation among the Hulls than your suffering at their hands?_

Cadvan shook off the voice, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he felt his mood darken along with Saliman's as they waited. At length, the line grew short enough that they could all see the stage, and they could see the pools of blood, glistening in the hot sun. The Hulls were there, taking quite a lot of pleasure in the screams of the Bards, and they had brought some of their hounds around to keep them all in line. As Bards approached and mounted the stage, their faces drained of color and they were reduced to shaking, terrified people, no more distinguished than a common farmer.

And Cadvan knew that his face must have had the same expression, for the Hulls grinned at him. There was nothing he could say to himself that made him feel any better, and the periodic cries of agony were beginning to wear his nerves thin. He felt sick. He felt like he would trade anything to be back in his cabin. It was the first time since arriving in Den Raven he truly felt like a slave.

_Was this what Maerad felt all those years in Gilman's Cot? _Cadvan found himself wondering again as he approached the stage. It was unsettling and uncomfortable. _Get control of yourself, stop acting like a child. _

"Cadvan, we won't be able to walk," Indik muttered, watching the people on the stage withering painfully.

"We'll have to make due…Silvia and Saliman are healers. Perhaps they can do something about it." It was hopeless, but what else was Cadvan supposed to say? He settled for looking contemplative and clasped his hands to press back the stress.

The minutes ticked by and soon they were before the stage, moments away from going to their own fate at the hands of Hulls. Cadvan heard the snick as a blade pierced someone's flesh and severed the tendon, and then the gasping cry of pain that followed. He tried to press back any sickness in his stomach. He had suffered worse before. There were worse things than pain. This was something he could handle.

_You're lying, and doing a poor job at that. _Cadvan's eyes snapped open when the person before him mounted the stage. _This will hurt more than you know._

The Bard before him threw her head back and screamed in agony when the knife sliced clean through her skin and blood pooled at her feet. Her eyes found Cadvan's and he saw a mixture of pain and confusion there; she clearly didn't understand why her life had become this. He nodded to her slowly in solidarity, and she rasped weakly before collapsing forward.

"Useless," hissed the Hull, pushing the woman away from him. She moaned as her body hit the stage and rolled, and after a moment, she pulled herself up and sat on her haunches, staring at her leg. "What a useless thing. Can't hold her own."

Cadvan felt a surge of hatred at this thing that judged them weak, but pressed it down along with a great deal of nervousness as he was pulled onto the stage. Behind him, Silvia made a small whining sound that might have been a sigh. She was watching him, so he supposed that meant he had to be strong.

_Not that Silvia's not strong, _said the voice in his head, trying to distract him from the Hull who was cleaning the blood off the blade. _She's a powerful woman, a great Bard. She doesn't need your support in everything. She can certainly take care of herself._

It wasn't working. The Hull had moved the blade so it rested on eyelevel with him and he saw the wicked, serrated edge, grinning toothily at him. He hissed and pulled back, but the Hull grabbed him by a hank of his hair and forced him back to the position he had been in. Its red eyes bore into him, searching for something. Cadvan stared back blandly.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" asked the Hull, still staring into his face. "Or is your brain addled? There's nothing there but a blank, empty stare. You might as well be dead, Bard."

_Were that I was, _thought Cadvan miserably, catching the glint of the sun off the blade as the Hull lowered it down to his ankle.

"A reminder not to run," the Hull said, smiling rather broadly. "There's nowhere to go, no one to run to. But perhaps it is best to shorten your leash then?"

_You'll scream, _said the voice in his head. _You'll scream because it'll hurt, but don't give in. Don't let your fear show._

There was a cool kiss as the Hull touched the blade to the back of his ankle and brushed his thumb against the skin. Cadvan stiffened his reserve, trying to remove himself from situation, but it was hard to forget when the first teeth of the blade brushed over his skin. Cadvan didn't even try to stop the scream from escaping him. There was no point. He risked biting his tongue off if he tried to hold it in, and it wasn't like there was anyone to impress. In fact, he got the distinct feeling that the others were watching him to see if they too would follow in his lead and scream.

Pain laced up his leg, horrible, mind numbing pain that turned every nerve ending to his leg. Cadvan tried to jerk away, but the movement was worse than anything he had felt so far. The blade he could still feel, and he realized with sinking dread that the first burst of pain had only lasted less than a second, and that the knife was still in him, still severing the tendon. He arched his back against the feeling of the fibers being torn asunder and the hot blood gushing down his ankle.

_By the Light! Make it stop! _He wanted to scream those words, he wanted to beg for this pain to end, but he doubted it would even if he did. Instead, he let another scream escape him and then he slumped forward when the Hull pulled the blade free.

In a movement so similar to the woman before him, Cadvan looked down at his leg. He saw his foot, twisted at an odd angle and the gash on the back of his leg, the blood pooling beneath him. But it didn't make sense to him suddenly. He knew what had happened, and he knew he was bleeding, and he knew he was in pain, but he just didn't _understand _how that thing on the end of his leg was there. He didn't understand how he could have suffered like this and still be alive.

_It doesn't make sense, _he thought blankly. _It's not right and it doesn't make sense._

He lifted his gaze up to Saliman, Silvia, Malgorn, and Indik and looked to them to answer the question. They stared back at him, afraid. "It's alright," he said emptily and then the Hull tossed him forward and he landed on the stage with a heavy thump.

He saw movement from the corner of his eyes and knew that Saliman was now being led up and he had to move, or else he risked being killed. Cadvan swung his legs around, the working one and the dead one, and hung them over the edge of the stage. In a moment of childishness, like when he would test the water in the river by his house, he touched his toes to the ground. The pain that shot up his leg was almost enough to lay him flat, and he was hissed in pain. Silvia made as if to go help him, but one of the Hulls snarled at her and Malgorn pulled her back; Cadvan shook his head at her. He tried again, and this time, managed to keep from screaming. In a quick, tear the bandage off way, he threw his feet to the ground.

His leg screamed in protest and he knew the sooner he limped away, the sooner he would be alone to gasp and whine in pain, so Cadvan pushed himself forward. He realized relatively quickly that the entire tendon hadn't been severed, or else he couldn't have walked at all, but part of it must have been sliced through, and his leg constantly gave way beneath him. It was the longest walk of his life, and it was interrupted now and then by other Bards who shared his grief and pain. When Cadvan finally collapsed in the cabin, he thought his leg was going to fall off. With a last guttural breath, he dropped his head on the floor before the fire place and closed his eyes and swore he would make Maerad answer for their pain.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry this is late again, but as the semester winds down, my work load increases. Anyway, I thought I might warn everyone that there is some graphic descriptions in this chapters, nothing overtly inappropriate (no sexual assault) but just some violence. **

Chapter Thirteen

There was no light. Complete and utter darkness consumed everything. No matter where Nerili moved, she could see nothing. At first, in a purely primal reaction, Nerili had paced her cell, panicking as the darkness set in, and she had ran into the walls of her cell numerous times; on the third collision with the wall, Nerili threw her hands against it in frustration and anger and fear, beating on the cool stone until she slumped to the floor.

_This is where you'll die, _said a voice in her head. _You're going to die alone in the dark. You'll never see light again. You'll forget the feeling of the sun on your face…the beautiful sun that glanced off the waters of the sea on the shores of Thorold. You will never know it again._

Stop it! Nerili wanted to scream, clutching her head in her hands. The thoughts had begun to plague her, poking at her confidence, wearing her sensibility thin. She was half terrified that the Nameless One was going to leave her to rot in the cell.

_Remember Nyanar, _she ordered herself, running her fingers through her hair distractedly. _Remember the world he showed you. Remember the light you knew then. He told you that you would go into Darkness, but he said you would survive. You would burn with Light. Remember your task._

Ah, yes, the task. She had wondered to herself how she was to come by Maerad and her brother, but if the rumors were true, then perhaps they might come by her. But that only left her wondering if they even wanted her. She had never met Hem before, and she could not be certain he would even want to heal her. She closed her eyes out of habit even though it was pitch black.

_He's a young man, _Nerili mused. _And you are a comely woman; you could play on his vanity and his desire. It would certainly be disingenuous, but it would get you close to him. _Nerili cringed at the idea because it would also put very specific demands on her, namely, having to seduce a young man. _Apply to his better nature then? An injured woman in need of help should stir some sense of responsibility. Especially in a healer. _But this only reminded her that according to Nyanar, Hem and Maerad were both confused and corrupted, so her pain wouldn't necessarily evoke any sympathy. _Luck? _

At the moment, it was the best hope Nerili had, and it didn't sit well with her. She curled up into as tight a ball as possible and tried to recall her memories of Thorold. Nerili didn't know how long she was kept in the cell, and she began to think that this was how it was going to end. Maybe Enkir had gone and told the Nameless One she was too stubborn and wouldn't break, and he had ordered her locked in the darkest, lowliest cell to die. It scared her. Nerili also couldn't forget the pain she was in, which was very distracting. Her broken feet and hands, her throbbing burns and bruises, the swelling in her face, it all amounted to an immensely painful experience just to sit.

_I wonder where Irvain is now, _Nerili mused, trying to forget the pain. _I wonder if he is on his way home, I wonder if he won his honor back. _She could still see his weather beaten face and feel his calloused hands when he held her that last time. _I hope he is well._

Tired beyond thought, but unable to get comfortable, Nerili drifted in and out of sleep as she sat in her cell. Sometimes, she was sure she was asleep because she felt light and free, and other times, her body ached so profoundly, it was all she could do to not scream and beg for release. After a while, Nerili felt the stirrings of hopelessness again, and she began to think that maybe she should just die.

_It'll be easier. There would be no more pain or fear, just nothing beyond the Gates. _Nyanar's face swam into view, the strange yellow eyes staring out of the bark of the tree. _You don't _owe _him anything. You were to try, and perhaps you would fail, and you can't be blamed for it. And if he is angry with you, what will he do? He is Eldihu, he is trapped here forever, but you will go beyond the Gates and into the Starry Glade. His anger can't follow you there._

"Stop," Nerili whispered in her shaking voice. "Stop."

She needed to stop this thinking. She needed to stop her fear. She needed to stop being such a coward and she had to be brave once more. Nerili began to run her fingers through her hair and felt a few clumps come away with her hand. In a trained motion, she began to braid her hair, twining the strands together while she thought.

_You will _not _die here because you are better than that. You will go before the Nameless One, and it will be terrifying, but you will face him, and once you have faced him you will find Hem and Maerad, and you will heal Hem. You have a purpose yet._

I have a purpose. It was a powerful thought, and acknowledgement that she was meant to suffer like this and that it would all serve the Light in the end. It gave Nerili the strength, at least, to crawl along the floor of the room, looking for the door. When she found it, she felt around the edge, hoping that maybe a stray bit of warmth or light might come in from the hall. And, more importantly, a reminder that there was still a world outside the darkness of the cell.

She could see nothing, and hear nothing by the door, but she thought she felt a brush of warm air touch the tips of her fingers. It might have just a trick of the mind, but she took solace in it all the same. After a while, Nerili crawled away from the door, until she sat directly across from it, her back pressing against the wall behind her. She allowed herself to relax and tried to forget the pain in his bones and flesh.

It might have been an hour, it might have been a hundred, but the next thing Nerili was aware of was voices in the hall. They bounced around her cell and her brain, and she had to shake herself to concentrate on what they were saying. A part of her was, naturally, terrified, and it wanted to hide in the corner, but another part was keen to meet her captors and begin her struggle anew. These two fought back and forth with each other so that when the door screeched in opening, Nerili lurched to the side as if to find cover.

"I told you," said one voice, and it was empty except for a cold, calculating malice. "Skittish as a rabbit."

"A rabbit would make a fine stew," said the other, and it too was devoid of any emotion except pleasure at Nerili's predicament.

They had a torch with them, and when one of men brought it into the room, Nerili had to shield her eyes so they wouldn't burn. She head the footstep come near her, and then someone grabbed her wrist and jerked her arm down, revealing her face. The light of the torch was too bright and she fell back, trying to hide her eyes.

"Perhaps before they eat the little rabbit, we'll tenderize her?" asked the voice, and Nerili felt her stomach drop.

_Hulls, _she realized with dread. _The Nameless One has sent Hulls to do me in. _

"Does she talk?" asked the other. "That worm, Enkir said they knocked a few of her teeth lose."

The Hull holding her knelt down so it was in her face. Nerili was still looking away, refusing to meet its red gaze, and trying to think of Nyanar's cat eyes instead. She felt a hand take her chin and jerk her toward the light. The brightness alone was enough to make her whine, and one of the Hulls laughed.

"Well, she makes noise, but words?" asked the Hull holding her. "Come little Bard, tell us your name."

_You know it already. _Nerili bared her teeth in a silent snarl, and she knew he could see the gape where Enkir had knocked loose a premolar.

"That's. Not. Nice." The Hull snapped her chin back and forth with every word. "Tell me your name."

Nerili finally managed to open her eyes and bear the light of the torch. She wished she hadn't. The Hull holding her was a horrible thing to behold: its skin was the wax and much the same texture, its eyes were blazing red, and the teeth in its mouth were filed down to points. It smiled at her, or gave the semblance of a smile, for Nerili doubted such a thing could feel joy, and then raised its free hand and ran its bony fingers through her hair.

"_S-stop_!" she ordered, tearing away from its grasp.

"Ah," said the Hull, snatching its hand back.

"She speaks," said its fellow. "A good thing, too, or this would all have been for naught. You know the Great One wants her."

Nerili tossed herself back and forth, trying to shake the Hull off, but she was weak, and the Hull laughed. "She has fire in her yet…good, good…we'll make a Hull of her."

"Never!" hissed Nerili.

"So you say, Nerili of Busk, but you will break like all the others," said the Hull. "We have had practice of late. So much practice…we break the bones and souls of your comrades, and you will beg for relief."

When Nerili lifted her chin, the Hulls spat. "You think Enkir is the worst of your worries? He is a _Bard_ at heart." The Hull said the word Bard like it was the highest form of insult. "He does not understand just how horribly low you can bring someone. He is repelled by our arts…" The other Hull drew forward and knelt down before Nerili too. She recoiled from him.

"These broken bones, these burns, these scars," said the Hull. "We will do better. We will torture and main your soul, and then, when you are before the Great One, you will tremble."

_Could Enkir truly be just the beginning? _she wondered, horrified.

"Shall we begin now?" asked the Hull.

"I think we shall," said the other. "He wishes to see her in a few days, at the victory feast. She must be ready then."

Nerili licked her dry lips and the Hull pulled her to her feet; they gave way, but the Hull merely shoved her along. It was an arduous walk, step by aching step, and she saw nothing but the cold, stone walls of the halls. There were torches here and there, and doors that must have led to rooms like her own. She heard screaming now and then, and she cowered away from it, unable to bear the pain of other. When the Hulls stopped her, it was before a door of wood.

"Here we are, Nerili, you're new home." It pushed the door open and revealed a circular room with a single stone slab. There was scratches from finger nails, blood, and stains of things she didn't know marking the slab, and a metal cuffs for her wrists and ankles. One of the Hulls shoved her in and she fell forward onto her hands and knees.

"Get rid of this," hissed one of the Hulls, and it ripped what was left her tunic and leggings off. She gasped, more at the feeling of her body being bared to whatever torture the Hulls could think of, than actually being naked. There was no Hull in the world who took pleasure in such things as a woman's body.

"Put her on the table," said the other, and Nerili saw that it was rummaging in small trunk full of cruel looking knives.

Nerili was hefted onto the table and she screamed when her broken rib collided with the stone. The Hulls hissed and struck her across the face. "None of that yet. You should save your screams for when you need them."

While the Hull fitted the manacles to her wrists, Nerili shivered against the cold of the stone and suddenly found herself wishing desperately for the ship and Enkir. She noticed the other Hull studying a particularly gruesome looking dagger, curved like a toothy smile. When the manacles were secured, Nerili forced her eyes closed and tried to ignore more screams that were threatening to overcome her.

"Now, before you get too scared," said the Hull holding the knife, "you should know that this isn't for you." Nerili's eyes snapped open as much as they could and she fixed the Hull with a stare. "I told you already that Enkir's tactics of pain were useless. A Bard like you takes a more…personal touch."

Nerili's breath came out in a hiss, and the other Hull brushed the flat of his hand over her bruised belly. "First Bard of Busk," it said. "Beloved by all her loyal followers. But do you love them, Nerili? Do you love Thorold?"

_What is this? _she thought nervously when the Hull with the knife left the room. _What torture is this? _

"What will you give for your people?" pressed the Hull.

She faced it suddenly, feeling a swelling sense of pride for her home. "Anything."

"One can only hope," said the other Hull who had returned.

Nerili turned to face him and was horrified to see that it had not come back alone. In one hand was the knife, the other, a small child. It was a young boy, perhaps nine or ten, and his face was pale under a mop of dirty, black hair. His huge eyes roved around the room and landed on Nerili; when he saw her he gasped, falling to his knees.

"Help me!" cried the boy. He tried to scramble toward her but the Hull held him by his hair. "Help me, please! They're going to kill me, they're going to-"

"Enough!" snarled the Bard, and it hit him over the head with the flat of the knife. "You will give anything, yes, Nerili? Well, what will you give for this boy? Will you give us your Name and surrender to the will of the Great One? Will you spare this boy's life?"

The boy was sobbing, covering his face with his hands. The Hull behind her was laughing at the sight of the child, and Nerili wanted nothing more than to summon a bolt of White Fire and blast the horrible creature.

_You knew this would come, _Nerili said ruefully. _You didn't actually think that the Nameless One would simply let Enkir torture you? No, he would use what you love against you._

"Spare him," Nerili croaked. "He's just a boy."

"And you are the First Bard," replied the Hull. "You must take responsibility for your people, and I am offering you the chance. Give me your Name and concede to my will, and I shall let him go."

"I'll tell you whatever you want save my Name," she said, thinking quickly. "That, I will give only to the Nameless One."

"You will call him the Lord of Light!" ordered the Hull beside her, and then clasped her fingers in his hand until she howled in pain.

The Hull with the boy let her screams fall away and then continued. "An interesting proposal," said the Hull meditatively. "I let the boy go, and you tell me anything I want? You must realize how disadvantaged you are, Nerili?"

Nerili caught the boy's eyes and tried to convey some strength to him. "I will answer one question."

"A game then," said the Hull with the boy. "I enjoy a little sport now and then, and most the Bards we keep here…" Its voice trailed off while more screams echoed down the halls. "They don't offer much fun."

"I will," promised Nerili. "The boy's life for a little fun?"

The Hull glanced up to his fellow and the two shared a look. After a beat, the Hull jerked the boy to standing and lowered his face so the two were even. The Hull pressed its cheek against the boy's and they both looked at Nerili. "You hear that? The First Bard of Busk is willing to share her secrets with me for your life. You must feel so…honored."

The boy sniffled. "I do," he squeaked, sensing the Hull's pleasure.

"And you trust her to tell the truth?" the Hull pressed.

"I do," said the boy again, imploring her with his eyes.

"Let us hope she doesn't disappoint then," the Hull said, and then straightened up, placed the gleaming teeth of the knife at the boy's throat. "Tell me, Nerili, the name of a lover."

"Cadvan," she said without hesitation. She doubted whether the Hull would know that her Cadvan was the same Cadvan of Lirigon.

"Ah," the Hull whispered.

"Your favorite memory with him?"

"The Midsummer Festival when I forty-three years old. We danced until the sun rose," she said in quick succession. When the Hull continued to stare at her, she looked down. "It was the first time we made love."

"How he must miss you," the other Hull said with relish.

"The name of a close kin," the Hull ordered next. When Nerili paused the Hull pressed the blade into the boy's throat and he shrieked.

"Elenxi," she rasped.

"Who is he?"

"My uncle," Nerili replied, catching the boy's eyes again.

"There was an Elenxi," said the Hull by her, "on the First Circle. He is here somewhere. Perhaps these two should see each other, yes?"

"I couldn't agree more," the Hull said, staring hungrily at her. "You have impressed me Nerili, with your candor, and for that, I commend you."

She met his gaze with as much courage as she could muster. "And the boy?"

"Ah, yes, the boy," the Hull said, and it ruffled his hair with the knife in its hand. "I did say I would spare him if you entertained me."

"Then let him-"

Nerili never finished her words, for at that moment, the Hull brought the knife back down and buried it deep in his chest. A look of surprise came over the boy's face, his eyes wide, his mouth opened in the shape of an O. For a second, his eyes came up and found hers, and Nerili saw that he wasn't even in pain, he was just confused. Then, quite suddenly, he toppled forward and lay still.

"_No!_" Nerili shrieked. She thrashed about weakly in her shackles and sobbed wildly. The Hulls stared at his body with interest. "NO!"

"What shall we do with it?" asked the one with the knife.

"Get the dogs," said the other.

"Excellent idea," agreed its fellow and turned for the door.

"You swore!" Nerili snarled, tears dribbling down her face. "You swore if I told you what you wanted you'd let him live."

"Yes, that was a lie," the Hull said simply, staring at her like she was the most amusing thing. "There is nothing more entertaining than the light of hope in your eyes before I crush it. That is real sport."

"Then why should I tell you anything?" she spat.

"Why indeed?" asked the Hull. "You must understand, Nerili, that there really is nothing you can do or say at this point that will matter much. You will certainly go before the Great One, and he will break your mind. I will simply break your soul."

"What?" Nerili rasped.

"Settle in, little rabbit," said the Hull by her. "It will be a long while before you have such hope again."

The other Hull left and Nerili stared at the corpse of the little boy. It had certainly gotten worse than Enkir. _Out of frying pan, into the fire._

* * *

Cadvan stared at his right leg, at the gash in his calf where the blood was still dribbling down his foot. He reached out and brushed his fingers lightly along the wound, and though he knew he was bleeding his brain didn't process the pain. He continued to stare at it, confused.

_How did this happen? _he wondered. _What led me to this? _He pressed his finger harder on the wound and after a moment, he gasped in pain.

"Cadvan, stop it!" Silvia said sharply, and she waved at his hand. "You'll make it worse."

"And how exactly would I go about doing that?" Cadvan asked sarcastically. "You see, I was under the impression it was already pretty horrible."

"Don't," warned Malgorn, and he glanced at Silvia. She was frowning impressively, but clutching her torn tendon as well. Cadvan saw a sharp light of pain burning in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said after a beat, and covered his eyes with his hand. "I don't know what came over me, Silvia…I'm just so tired of this place. I'm tired of the Dark."

"I understand," she said gently, for she sensed that it was more than just the Dark that was wearing him down. Having to see Maerad in such a state must have been almost has bad as the torture they were subjugated to. "But you mustn't touch that wound so, it will get infected."

Cadvan smiled at her. "You're the healer."

"Lot of good it does us now," she said morosely. "Look what we've been reduced to. I have nothing to bind the wound with, no herbs to clean it, no string to stitch with."

"Is it a complete tear?" wondered Indik, who was examining his own wound carefully.

"No," said Saliman. "No, if it was completely severed we wouldn't be able to walk on it. They probably just sliced it half way."

"But you can tear it," said Silvia swiftly. "Don't put any stress on your leg."

"That's impossible," said Cadvan, though he kept his voice even. "We're _slaves_."

"Try not to-"

Silvia's voice was cut off by the peal of a bell being rung, except this time, there was collective sigh from the Bards. Hobbled as they were, Cadvan and Malgorn managed to limp over to the door, leaning against the walls. In the streets, they saw the same curious faces peering out the doors, the same sad, scared eyes. For a while there was nothing, no movement, no sounds, but finally there came the vibrations of many feet moving on the dirt road.

"What is it?" asked Silvia, stretching out her neck to see to the road.

"It's people," said Malgorn, confused. "Lots of people."

"From where-?"

"Thorold," said Saliman suddenly. "Maerad and Hem mentioned that the Nameless One had won his battle at Busk. These must be the Bards from Thorold."

Cadvan snapped to attention. _Neri is with them_, he thought after a beat.

Almost five minutes later the crowd approached and Cadvan saw the first faces of the Bards of Busk. They were a sorry lot, if truth be told. Most of them worth the remnants of clothes from battle, and they were battered and scarred; they had a look about them that was wary, as if waiting for an attack to come, and Cadvan suspected they were not yet wholly accustomed to the treatment they were now receiving.

_Neri_, he thought while he searched for her face. Surely, if she was with them, the Hulls would have put her at the front? She was the First Bard, the strongest, their leader. The Hulls would want the Bards to know they had defeated her. But she wasn't there, and as they slouched by, Cadvan still didn't see her face.

"Nerili isn't among them," he said to no one in particular.

"The First Bard?" Silvia asked. "Should she be?"

"Maerad did say the Nameless One would want to speak with her first," said Saliman.

The idea of Nerili being alone with the Nameless One was almost too horrifying a thought to entertain. "I would think he would send her here first. He certainly wouldn't see her the moment she was dragged in Den Raven?"

His eyes landed on Malgorn, A First Bard among them. "The Nameless One knew I would never betray my people. Enkir told him so. I sheltered you and Maerad when you were running from the Dark."

"As did Nerili," said Cadvan slowly. "He must want her for something else then."

"Perhaps he suspects she is weak," Indik said, watching Cadvan. "If he believes a word of what Enkir say, he'll suspect a woman First Bard is faster to break."

"He's not so much a fool as Enkir," Cadvan said at once.

"She is from Thorold, no? The only country that he could never conquer in his first rise?" Saliman reasoned. "Perhaps he has a professional curiosity in Nerili."

Cadvan glanced back at his friend and then dropped his eyes to his torn leg. _What does the professional curiosity of the Nameless One entail?_

* * *

Nerili pressed her back against the wall of the room, wishing it would swallow her up. "Stop this," she moaned, closing her eyes and trying to push the sounds out of her mind.

"Now, now, now, Nerili," hissed one of the Hulls, and it jerked her hands down so she could not hide her face. "You must watch…if you don't watch, we'll bring more children."

"Please, stop this," she said again, opening her eyes to the horror before her.

"It is good for you, Nerili, good for you to understand sacrifice, for soon, you shall make it. Watch your people sacrifice for you. Learn from them."

_I wish I was dead, _she thought miserably, and tried to pull away from the Hull. It clung to her though, and she was forced to watch.

Since the murder of the boy, the Hulls had left and returned with a number of Bards, young and old, men and women, and they had tortured them while Nerili looked on. She didn't think it would have destroyed her so, but there came a time when her screams were louder than the screams of her people, and she knew that their voice was hers, and they bore their torment in silence while she howled in pain. Often, one the Hulls would grow frustrated with her and they would turn their weapons on her.

They were much worse than Enkir when it came to pain, for they knew the human body far more intimately then he did. Nerili had accumulated a number of burns in tender places, and when left alone, she would prod them, but the nerves were gone and she felt nothing. A mad part of her wondered how she could ever be a woman again after what they had done, but this seemed like a joke since she doubted very much that she would ever leave this place.

When they were satisfied with her own torment, they would turn back to the prisoners. Nerili had watched Bards being torn apart bit by bit by wild hounds, she had seen them burned alive, cut open and gutted, dismembered, skinned alive…she didn't even try to think anymore: the memories made her sick.

When the Hulls left her, she was usually alone in the room with the bodies and the pools of blood. They would release her from the table and give her the freedom of the room, but she would always crawl as far away from the bodies as possible and sleep against the wall, her back to the corpses.

This time she had been shaken awake, it was to find a horrible scene before her eyes. It was Elenxi, bound and gagged and standing in the light of the door. She felt her mouth go dry and her stomach turn. He met her gaze once, a deep, reassuring look, and then lifted his chin and refused to look at her again.

"You said you had an uncle…Elenxi." The Hull pushed him forward. "Did you think we wouldn't find him, Nerili? Why, he is family, and family is _so _important now. This is a time when you need your loved ones around you."

"Stop this," she said again, while the other Hull returned with a number of sharp tools. "You've…you've got the wrong man."

"Then it shouldn't matter what we do, should it?" asked the Hull smartly. "Not that it does. You and I already had this talk; there is nothing you can do."

"Please," she croaked.

"Begging won't change your fate, Nerili," the Hull whispered. "Fighting won't change your fate. _You _won't change your fate. There is nothing you can do now; accept your lot in this life. Bow down to fate."

Nerili strained herself enough to sit up straighter. "Spare my people."

"I don't think so," the Hull said shortly. "And your insolence annoys me."

"Don't hurt them anymore," she said again, but her voice wavered.

The Hull's red eyes rested on her face, enjoying the frantic rise and fall of her chest. "You mistake death for pain, little Bard. When he is dead, he will be free; it is _you _who will suffer now."

Nerili glanced to his face again, but Elenxi had averted his gaze, and though she knew he was doing it to spare her, she wished he would look at her. She missed the tenderness of human emotion. "Take me to the Nameless One. I'll go quietly. I won't fight."

"Not until your spirit breaks, and there is something in you that refuses to bend." The Hull drew closer, and he tugged Elenxi with him. He looked down on her upturned, bruised face. "You say you will go quietly, but I don't want that. I want you to go to your fate, knowing you will suffer, but screaming and pleading and begging to be spared. I want you to lie to yourself."

"I-I can't," she rasped. "Let him go-"

"Then I will drive you to it," spat the Hull. It looked up from her face to that of its companion. "The acid from the dogsoldiers."

"No!" Nerili cried, but the Hull merely shifted its gaze back to Elenxi.

"Your niece has shown an impressive will, and I commend her for it. You must be so proud." The Hull bared its teeth in a wicked smile. "A pity you will not be here to see her future. The Great One has plans for such people as her. She will make a servant yet."

"You cannot break an island, and Nerili is the heart and soul of Thorold. You and your master are sorely mistaken if you think to bring her low," he said proudly.

"It is true, you cannot break and island," the Hull replied as the other returned with a metal decanter of fuming liquid, "but you most certainly can break a soul."

"Please, wait!" Nerili pleaded, but the Hull didn't spare her a glance.

It took Elenxi to the slab where she had been restrained at first and sat him upon it. He lifted his chin, proud as ever, and his eyes flashed like lightening at sea. "Death does not scare me."

"Nor should it," agreed the Hull. "Your part in this play is over, but it has served its purpose well."

"Don't!" Nerili screamed.

"But die knowing," said the Hull, tipping his chin up ever so slightly, "that your beloved niece will spend the rest of her very _long _life as a thrall to the Great One. She will spend every waking moment, every sleeping moment, every second of her existence in torment. She will never again know light or love or freedom. She will die a lonely, forgotten, sad little girl. Know that now."

Something in Elenxi's eyes flinched, and the Hull laughed victoriously. "To the victorious dead, Elenxi of Thorold. To you."

Nerili wanted to turn away, but the other Hull held her face in a vice and forced her to watch while the Hull holding Elenxi tilted his head back, lifted the vial of dog soldier acid, and pressed the mouth of it to his lips. She watched as the steaming contents flooded into his mouth and down his throat. She heard his screams as the acid ate him from the inside out, and she was screaming too. She screamed louder and longer than she had before, and she thought that maybe she had gone mad. His body collapsed on the floor and convulsed, and the skin around his throat turned bright red and smoked where the acid was burning through his flesh. She hoped he was dead, she hoped he didn't feel as the acid ate his stomach and his tongue and teeth. She hoped beyond hope he was dead, and she hoped she was too.

_No more, _she thought desperately. _No more of this madness. Let it end._

The Hull was right, she realized. Elenxi's death was _his_ freedom, but it was her prison. As his head flopped on the floor, his face fell her way and she stared at his unseeing eyes and the gaping hole that had been is mouth; there was smoke coming out of his lips like a fire had been lit inside him. In a sharp movement, Nerili tore herself free of the Hull and hobbled across the room, sobbing and pulling at her hair.

"No!" she shrieked when the Hull sent for someone to move the body. "No! Don't touch him! Don't befoul his body with your Darkness."

Spitefully, the Hull kicked his corpse and Nerili snarled like a wild animal. It looked to its companion and they shared a long, calculating look. "Just in time, too," it finally said. "The Great One would have been displeased if we didn't present her at the victory feast."


End file.
